I Knew Him When
by Adam Kadmon
Summary: The world ended... and then began again.
1. Chapter 1

I Knew Him When

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: for all of you who hated True Love Waits, this one's for you. And I don't own Evangelion. Evangelion owns me.

* * *

"Yeah, I knew him. I mean, I knew who he was. We weren't friends or anything. I was in the class next to him. To be honest, he kind of scared me. Not like, physically or anything. He was small, real skinny. Kind of shrank away from people. No, there was just something about him. Something about all of them. They weren't right, if you get me. Sort of messed up in the head. I mean, you'd have to be, right? To do what they did.

"I remember, I remember some of the girls thought he was hot, but weird. Like he was the artsy type. Heh. My little sister, she thought he was _so_ cute. Wrote poems about him and everything. I was a little worried. It was strange, though. He never really talked to anyone or did anything in school. Like he was doing the bare minimum to get by. Like he was bored with life. Well, don't quote me or anything. I don't know what was going on with him.

"I heard he was pretty smart. Not a genius, I don't think, but pretty smart. Good at sports? Nah, not really. He kept to himself, not going out of his way to stand out. Actually, now that you mention it, I think he did hang out with some other kids. No, sorry. I don't know their names. It wasn't like I was stalking him. I just know what got around, you know?"

A pause.

"Why are you asking about him? Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"No."

"Good. I guess. I don't know. Nowadays you hear all kinds of crazy stuff about him and that place he worked for. Uh, Nerf or whatever it was. But no matter what people say, it really pisses me off that they forced kids to do their dirty work, you know? It's like a bad anime or something. Forcing kids to go and fight in giant robots. Me? No, I was never really into that stuff. I wasn't into danger and adventure. I figured I was lucky enough to be living, so I shouldn't get greedy."

"What do you remember about the Impact?"

"The… the Impact… yeah, that's what they were calling it. The Impact. It makes it sound not so bad, you know?" A sigh. A longer pause. "I don't know. Even… even today people don't talk about it. Like mentioning it will bring it back. It's real personal, asking somebody about that. It isn't something you just chat about."

"Anything you can tell me will be appreciated."

"Yeah…" Forced exhalation through nostrils. "Yeah. I was home when I first heard the bombs. I was there with my sister, alone. My father, he worked in the city, doing… I don't really know. Something. He moved us out of Tokyo-3 after a real bad attack from those things. Those giants. It boggles my mind why people stayed there at all." He stopped, remembering.

"You were with your sister…"

"Huh? Oh, right. Right. We had moved outside Tokyo after one of the attacks, in with my aunt. She was out at work. My sister and I went to the window when we heard the bombs. It was real subtle. Almost went unheard over the traffic and the city. But we waited, thinking maybe another giant came or something. We waited for a long time, and then this… this wave just came up from the horizon, like somebody pulling a sheet up. And the sound it made, like somebody screaming. Well, the wave, it just kept coming, and coming, like it was going to blow us up, too, but then it stopped. And then—well, uh, you're not going to report this to anyone, are you? Like the media or anything? I have a wife and kids, and if this gets out—"

"This is all classified."

"Oh, okay. Well the wave faded, and the sky got all weird, and, well, way off in the distance was this… girl. Or woman, or something." Whispering words. "Like, she just stood up and… well, I mean, it had to be a hallucination, or something, right? I mean, giant naked girls just don't rise from the ground, right?" Biting lip. "Don't let this get out, okay? I don't want anybody to think I'm part of that cult that's in the news, okay?"

"This is all classified. Please continue."

"S-sure. Right. Well, this… this girl just keeps on rising, and I… I kind of freaked out. I mean, I was only fourteen. And, and my sister was screaming, and people in the streets were going crazy, and… God…"

Waiting.

"So I hid in my room with my sister. I… I even locked the door. And then… and then, I mean, I must have been going out of my head, my sister starts shouting that she sees mommy, I mean our mother. But she's been dead for years, but she keeps saying 'I see her! I see her!' and she got out of my grip, and she just… she just kind of… fell apart. Like liquid. Like she was made of liquid." Trembling, shaking. Edge of crying.

"If this is too hard for you we can continue later."

"No. No. I want to get this out." Swallows, deep breath. "After… after that, I screamed, kind of went a little crazy, like I was trying to wake up from a bad dream. That's how it felt. Like a real bad dream you can't wake up from. And then… and then I saw this girl, wearing the uniform from my old school, just standing there by the door. N-no, I don't remember her face. Just that she was there. And then… nothing. The next thing that's clear is waking up on the beach, just like everybody else. Just like everybody else."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Geez… that time is still a little blurry, you know? I guess… about ten years ago. Yeah, I'm twenty-four now. Or twenty-six. Depending on how you count it. It's still… God. It's still freaky to think about it too much. Huh? Oh… no… my sister hasn't come back yet. No, that's okay. I mean, it's stupid to say it, but if she's with mommy, then… I don't know. Maybe she's happy. That's how I like to think about it."

"Are you seeing anyone? I mean, professionally?"

"Of course. Aren't we all?"

"Thank you for your time. The government appreciates your cooperation."

The man rose from his seat, his knees shaking a bit, a light sweat on his face. He turned to the woman who questioned him, and grinned.

"Yeah, the government. What's left of it. Sorry, didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't."

"Oh," the man said. "Good. Well, uh, see you later. I mean… well… I've never really talked about this stuff before, not in detail, but once I started… it just tumbled out. Sorry to burden you with it."

"No trouble. This is my job."

"Your job? Your job is to listen to survivors? God… I'm… I'm sorry."

The woman rose as well, shaking her head.

"No need to be. I actually find it interesting."

That seemed to turn the man off. He flinched, drawing back. He made for the door.

"Yeah, well, uh, goodbye."

"Goodbye. Thank you for your help in this case."

"Yeah."

The door closed. The world became silent. She shut her eyes, and the world became dark.

* * *

He was the last interview of the day, and Kirishima Mana was glad for it. Talking to Impact survivors everyday, all day was tiring. Like their words sapped the strength from her. All the breakdowns she witnessed, the tears, the anger, the confusion, frustration, humiliation, all of it tended to blend together after a full day, each face becoming no different from the rest, each story sounding like the last. She knew she wasn't cut out for this sort of work, passively listening, but in the wake of Third Impact there was a desperate need for open ears. Not just for the government to piece together the facts of what led to the disaster, but for the minds and souls of those who returned. Mana was aware that her role was not to ease suffering, or cure pain, but to gather information. The slap-dash psychology degree the military fronted her was only a means to an end.

Mana sighed, locking her office for the night, working her shoulders to break up the exhaustion weighing on them. She made her way to the front of the military hospital, passing doctors and orderlies as she went. Though built for injuries of the body, it was common knowledge that this facility catered to injuries of the mind. Like most of the hospitals left on earth.

Like anyplace where a human would lend an ear.

She passed the receptionist at the front desk, each acutely conscious of the others' job. A mutual understanding had developed between them, each woman seeing a different face of the horror. Not that Mana particularly liked her, but it was best to keep up good relations with the underlings. No spit in her morning coffee, thank you.

"Goodnight, Dr. Kirishima."

"Goodnight, Miho."

Her car waited for her in her reserved space, sitting happily under a bright fluorescent light. A pair of moths fluttered near the source. Her car wasn't anything special, nothing fast or unique or expensive, merely a way to travel between her home and work. And on the weekend the small bistro she favored that overlooked the river.

It started for her key and she turned the radio on. She was careful to avoid any talk shows or news programs. The disinformation only served to irritate her. It would only remind her that there were many things kept from her, despite her rank. It simply wouldn't do to go against her commanders. It could be a frightening age, sometimes, with how easily people could disappear.

The drive from the base to her apartment was roughly eighteen minutes if she caught all the lights and didn't run into a traffic snarl coming into the city. It always gave her a small thrill to see the lights of the buildings glowing in the darkness, a pleasant change from what had greeted her when she returned. Blackness. Complete blackness, so dark not even the moon could light the hand in front of your face. Total blackness, with only the sounds of screams to keep you company. Tonight was a dark night. It was times like this she was glad she lived alone, and was single. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she kept the lights on when she slept. It made the nightmares less paralyzing when she woke up in a terrified sweat.

She lived in a small family-owned complex, only two stories high, located on the skirts of Kyoto, north of the military base. She wasn't loud, though she did hold an affinity for off-key singing in the shower, and didn't invite strange men home, and was always on time with her rent. These factors undoubtedly aided her when the rest of the tenants discovered she was a military agent. Despite the name-calling, and the insults, and the threats, Mana had remained where she was, and the landlords supported her. Granted, a few people moved out, but good homes were hard to come by, and most had stayed. They learned to swallow their pride.

Mana pulled up to the complex just as a really good pop song ended. She was still humming it when she extracted the key. As she climbed out of her car, two young men passed by, remarking on her uniform and spitting beside her. Mana did not panic, or respond, assured that the two children were too cowardly to actually harm her. And the familiar weight of the sidearm that rested under her left arm made her feel invincible. She shut her car door and walked up to her apartment without missing a step.

It had long since ceased to bother her, the contempt civilians showed her regarding her job. She chuckled silently as she remembered her co-workers' terrified reaction to the knowledge that she lived in the city, risking all kinds of danger from the general populace. They urged her to relocate to the barracks on base, practically begged her, but Mana wasn't about to sacrifice her way of life for a bunch of ungrateful leeches. Nothing really bad had happened to her yet, and she was confident that nothing would.

"I'm home," she called out to the empty apartment. She quickly turned on some lights.

Dinner was an instant affair, boiling water in a cup of dried noodles. Mana ate with one hand, the other flipping through the few stations on the television. Each and every time she turned the set on she wondered why she bought it. The only programs being broadcast were government-controlled news and international reports on reconstruction. She cycled through the channels, reaching the top and starting over from the bottom. She caught glimpses of peoples and places far away, but none stayed her hand. She kept going, as if new shows would magically appear after a few dozen times through. As she slurped the last of the noodle broth she cut the power to the TV.

Mana sighed. The idea of a shower seemed unbearably difficult, so she went to bed dirty. She could change the sheets tomorrow. She collapsed onto her futon, the steady hum of the light above her head lulling her into a sleep. As she lay on her back, Mana gazed out her window at the night sky. The blood halo had almost vanished completely these past ten years. In a few more, it would be nothing but a foul memory.

* * *

She dreamed again that night. Not the familiar nightmares nearly every human was plagued by, but a different dream. The one from long ago, when the world was still whole. She dreamed of him.

Ikari Shinji. The pilot of Evangelion Unit-01, one of the select "Children" capable of manipulating those monstrosities. Son of the deceased commander of NERV, Ikari Gendo, and the deceased scientist Ikari Yui. Born in 2001, apparently returned 2015, the first of the survivors, along with Soryu Asuka Langely, another of the Children. Early reports were sketchy at best, but those two were alone for some time before others returned. Based on carbon dating and the alignment of the stars, it was determined that roughly six months passed between the Impact and the Return. Granted, the calculations were taken during a time of extreme chaos and fear, but those factors alone were not basis for throwing them out completely.

The day of the Impact. That was what nearly every organization directly under the government's control was investigating. Tokyo-3 and everything within a several mile radius of it was nothing but a crater, a dead hole on the face of the earth. Early excavations of the ruins were classified top secret, the mysteries of the ghost city and the technology within secreted away.

They weren't totally blind though. Recorders at the scene of the Impact captured the siege, the attack, and the emergence of the red Evangelion, Unit-02. Then nine white units appeared from the sky, were beaten, resurrected, and then disemboweled the red mech. The last image the recorders hold is a violent, swirling mass of power rising from the shattered remains of NERV on two, great burning wings.

After that, nothing.

After that, they were left to piece the truth out from the fragmented shards of human memory remaining on earth, and those who returned from the sea that smelled like blood. Those first few hundred to come back faced a broken world, besieged by disease, famine, death and despair. Somehow, as if guided by the hand of God, they survived. They managed to cling onto the scraps of humanity left on the planet. In a mere twelve years the survivors had picked themselves up, brushed off the terror of Impact, and resumed the world, pretending nothing had happened. Governments began churning again, peoples began living again. The world was returning to what it had been, but with one great exception. The nation of Japan was no more.

At least in the political sense. Word spread surprisingly fast regarding NERV and the Evangelions. How it spread was never investigated, only the why mattered. It provided the impetus to realign the world according to fear and revenge. From a unanimous edict the flailing world powers decided to punish Japan, and those who lived within it. National sovereignty was stripped, and an occupying force of military from around the globe settled on the island nation, establishing a provisional government that ensured true power to its overseas rulers. Naturally, anyone seen cooperating with these new authorities was believed to be traitors, defectors, scum. There was a sharp disconnection between the common people and those above them. It bred hate and fear and frustration.

Mana couldn't blame them, not really. The military, like the government, was on the short leash of the reformed UN, ad hoc rulers of the world. The returned rulers turned on their backs and let the foreign powers roll over them, scraping and begging for forgiveness the whole time. Better to be a living coward than a dead hero. At least that was what the higher-ups thought.

Every aspect of the country was now decided by foreigners, paranoid gaijin who both feared the impossible power of the Evangelion, and lusted for its touch. It was almost amazing how quickly the occupying forces swept everything under the rug, collecting and hiding the various pieces of Project E and NERV. Where the cache was now, and what was being done with it was beyond Mana's clearance.

She rejoined the military as soon as she returned, intent on correcting her past mistakes. While not her fault in the least, the aborted plan to make contact with the Third Children had eaten her up inside. For years she tortured herself, believing if she had just gone with the original plot of cornering Ikari Shinji, that this hell might have been averted. That she could have made a difference. That the outcome would have been better. Of course she had no way of knowing the plan would've even worked, let alone changed the course of events leading to the Impact. But still, even now, sometimes late at night she would wake up in a sweat, guilt pouring off her, grasping at the world as it used to be.

But it was pointless to crucify yourself for events past. She had learned that after a few years. All that remained was the truth. The undeniable facts of the matter. Though carefully hidden and concealed, they were open if one looked hard enough. And at the center of those truths, the heart of every exposed lie and unturned deceit, one thing kept appearing.

The Third Children. The Angel slayer. The berserker devil. The God killer.

Ikari Shinji.

To know him was to know the truth.

* * *

It was Tuesday when she awoke. It was a struggle to rise from her futon, but Mana was rather adept at forcing her own actions, at going through the motions required of her. She existed in a vacuum, devoid of intense emotions and even enjoyment. Life was not a game to delight in. It was a trial. Only the strong survived. There was no room for weakness, or fault. Cowards could stay in the bloody sea.

Mana idly glanced over at her calendar. It was still Tuesday.

"It's the fifth," she whispered.

The day Japan died. Seven years to the day.

In the aftermath of the Return, there was nothing that operated unaffected. Except human nature. So in hindsight maybe it wasn't so ridiculous to think a radical group of super nationalists obtained a working N2 mine and detonated it inside the largest rebuilt city in the nation, murdering nearly two million souls.

It was a protest, a desperate cry against the encroaching UN, and the crushing guilt of nationality. It was a foolish, arrogant, pitiful display of personal weakness and Mana despised it for that. The additional facts that it completely stalled the government, and the foreign emissaries killed in the blast insured foreign intervention, were not lost on her. But it made the act no easier to comprehend.

The Tokyo-2 Massacre.

It made no sense to her. Granted, political science and repercussions were never a strong point in her studies, but the insanity of the bombing always astounded her. What were they hoping for? Of course, everyone was a little insane back then. It was only recently humans deigned to allow reason and logic back into their lives. Kicking and screaming.

Mana looked back to her calendar. It was still Tuesday.

She sat up. The world would not wait while she lay in bed contemplating the idiocy of mankind. She'd spent too many years doing that already.

Mana went through the motions of morning life in a fine fog. She recalled eating breakfast and taking a shower, but she could not remember what she ate or when she dressed. Simply that she did. The trip to the military base was likewise carried out in a hazy, half-forgotten manner.

She supposed she could take the day off, most of the non essential workers in the nation did, but a selfish pride steered her out of the city and onto the connecting highway. The date had no impact on her work ethic, only the weaker part of her emotions. She pulled into the base during the fifth minute of an observed seven minutes of silence on the radio. She waited in the silent car another two before getting out.

Another day, another dollar, another round of survivor's tales. Mana shook her head, clearing the cobwebs, reminding herself how important her work was. It was frustrating though. She felt dehumanized listening all day, absorbing their emotions and feelings like an object, a thing. Sometimes she couldn't help but think that a tape recorder could do her job just as well as she did, if not better.

She passed Miho at the reception center, not bothering to wave, seeing she was on the phone. After she was a good two yards behind her she called out, saying the commander wanted to see her.

Mana groaned. She didn't like her commanding officer. It wasn't that he hit on her, no, that could be forgiven. It was because he was arrogant and proud.

And an American.

She rapped on his door, even though he knew she was coming, and waited. In a small, private display of dominance and ego, the man let a full twenty seconds pass before allowing her to enter. Mana sighed through her nose.

"Ah! Agent Kirishima. Oh, excuse me, Dr. Kirishima, forgive me. I was in the middle of an important call."

Even if her degree was for decorative purposes only, she still worked hard at it, damn it. She wished people would show her a little respect, and not gape, awed by her young age.

"Good morning, colonel Taper, sir."

Taper smiled, ushering her in with a stroke of his hand. She came in, staying on her feet, ignoring the chair sitting before his desk. He had it decorated with odd little miniatures, cast iron replicas of army vehicles and weapons. Mana imagined he played war when he was alone.

"Good morning. I hope you're well today."

She hated the way he spoke, the way his tongue stumbled over the language, the way he overcompensated for his mistakes. Granted, the man had less than a year to learn it, but Mana didn't know that. Or care.

"I'm fine, sir. Thank you."

"Excellent," Taper said. He smiled. "Well, how goes the interviews? You've gathered a lot of valuable data for us, and we're very thankful. I and my commanders, I mean."

Sensing this was going to take a while, Mana sat.

"Are you sleeping well? It's just that you have to relive the events everyday. It must be hard."

"No, sir," she said. "I've learned to cope."

"Good. Glad to hear it." He ran his forefinger across his chin. "I hope you find time to enjoy yourself every now and again. I realize you don't have a lot of free time, but I want to make sure you utilize it properly."

"Sir?"

"I want all the people under me to be in top condition. This entails that they know how to take time off when necessary. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Taper cocked his head for a moment, then straightened one of the miniatures facing him. "I read your latest report." He flipped through a stack of papers on his desk. "Ah… here. Kawashita Mariko. She was in class 2-A in Tokyo-3. You remember that one?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, good." He read a moment, squinting. His mouth moved as he went over the kanji, trying to recall the language training he received. "Anyway, good job. We feel this gives us a better understanding of how things were back then. It's important to figure out exactly the way things were."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Well, it seems she wasn't in the city during the Impact either. But still, it's important to question everyone who might have seen anything."

"Yes, sir," Mana said.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "It's been decided that you're ready to move on to a more direct approach regarding the investigation. Your training previous to the Impact makes you perfect for this job." Taper leveled his gaze at her. "I'm to give you your new assignment, doctor." He withdrew a folder from his desk, weighing it in his hand, letting it bob up and down. "All our past efforts on this subject have failed. He just won't crack. I mean, he'll talk readily enough, but never about what we want. It's like he's playing a game with us."

Mana tried to read the name on the file, but the up and down motion was making her feel queasy.

"He's under house arrest," Taper went on. "Has been for years. He seems content enough with the way things are, never complaining, never making a fuss. We believe that he holds the answer to everything we've worked towards these past twelve years."

"Who is it, sir?" she asked, feeling the certainty build inside her.

Taper slapped the folder down, his face drawn.

"Ikari Shinji."

* * *

End of chapter 1

Author's notes: hooray for Mana. Time to make it up to all the people who cried when I kicked her out of TLW. I know this was a slow chapter, but I needed to set a lot of things up. Next one should be a little more interesting.

Basically, this story arose from all the people who were angry about how my last story went with Mana. Yeah, kicking her out like I did was pretty weak, but that fic, in my mind, was never about her. To be blunt, she was a means to an end. For me, even from the start, it was always about Shinji and Misato… and later Rei. The early ideas for this were formed as I realized that yes, Mana should have played a larger role in that fic. To all my early reviewers, you were right, I was wrong.

And don't worry. Taper, as an ACC, will only be in the bare minimum of scenes.


	2. Chapter 2

I Knew Him When chapter 2

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: I don't own Eva

* * *

"Ikari Shinji?" Mana asked, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

"Yes," Taper said, handing her the file. "The one and only."

She took it from him, clenching her hands to keep them from shaking. She swallowed.

"When do I meet him, sir?"

"Not so fast. I know you read his case file before the Impact, and have been indirectly questioning his school-mates, but you're not ready to see him yet." He cracked his knuckles against his desk. Mana hated when he did that. "We want you to do some more research. We're opening up more people for you to talk to, to get a better understanding of him."

"With all due respect, sir, I'll get the best understanding when I see him."

Taper squinted at her, trying to peer into her words.

"No." He frowned. "Tell me what you think of him first."

Mana bit her tongue. This was a tricky situation.

"I only know what I read, sir. It's difficult to render a personal opinion."

"Try."

"Well… I heard he's shy, intelligent, but easily manipulated. I believe him to be somewhat immature, and selfish. Beyond that, sir, I suspend any judgment." _Some suspension._

"What do you think of his battle record?"

"It's impressive, sir," Mana admitted. "I'd be lying if I said otherwise."

Taper waited for more. Mana gave him nothing.

"I want you to remember that, Kirishima. Remember he isn't someone to take lightly. Be on your guard and be cautious. Don't let any feelings of pity or gratitude blind you."

"Where is he now, sir?"

"House arrest," he said. "Been there for awhile."

"No, sir. I mean where is he exactly?"

"You'll meet him when you complete your investigation. No sooner. We're clearing up the red tape for you to see the remainder of NERV's personnel, but it'll take a few days. Until then, get your notes in order and review the cases. We'll contact you when we're ready. Don't worry, Kirishima. Ikari will be waiting."

"Yes, sir."

Taper pursed his lips.

"I want you to be careful. I won't pretend to know what the Japanese really think about him and NERV, but never forget that he's dangerous. That he's a threat. He isn't some great hero to be worshipped like those cults do. He is, from everything we've uncovered, directly linked with the Impact."

"You think he caused it, sir?" she asked.

"That," Taper said, "is what you're going to find out."

* * *

Mana was reviewing the old files on the pilots when someone knocked on her door, making the frosted glass rattle. She sighed. Even his knock was annoying.

"Come on in, Musashi."

He entered, letting the door hit the wall. Mana groaned.

"Hey there." He waved. "How was G.I. Joe? Did he ask you to play war with him?"

She smiled despite herself.

"No, and I doubt he'd be happy to hear your little nickname for him."

"_My_ nickname? Come on, everybody calls him that. Even the foreigners." He mock spit out the corner of his mouth. "Besides, it isn't like he'd fire me. People aren't exactly lining up outside the gates to work here."

"Yeah," Mana sighed. "I know."

"Eh, don't let it get to you. Stupid sheep outside only think of themselves, blubbering and pissing themselves about oh, the cults, and oh, the UN." His voice went high, trying to imitate a child's. "And when will the halo go away? Wah! When will the ocean stop smelling like blood? Boo hoo."

"You done?"

"So fucking sorry. I try to make somebody's day a little bit brighter, and she tells me to shut it. I don't know why I even bother."

"Why do you bother?"

Musashi sat on her desk, grinning.

"Because you're so damn gorgeous, doc. When are you going to let me sweep you off your feet?"

"Really? What about poor little Asari?"

"Him?" he scoffed. "He's probably hiding under a desk somewhere, rolling pennies trying to save up for a second pair of pants."

"You always have such… interesting things to say, Musashi-kun. Thanks for stopping by. Don't be a stranger, now," she said, waving him away.

"Aw, come on," he said. "At least tell me what you're working on. Anything to avoid returning to… human resources. God! Why'd I join the military? I thought by now I'd be in the Middle East or America, or somewhere shooting guys and blowing stuff up." He snorted. "So, give. What's all this?" He didn't wait for an answer, snatching one of the files up. "Huh. Ikari Shinji. Unit-01's pilot, right? Say… weren't you supposed to date him or something?"

"I was supposed to initiate contact with him, yes, but the Trident project was halted and we aborted the plan." She sighed. "I wonder what would have happened if we did meet."

"Well, you could have killed the bastard, saving mankind from its present nightmarish hell we currently enjoy." Musashi shrugged. "Or he could have knocked you up, sending you out of the service in disgrace. Either or. Both are good."

"Go to hell."

"Already there, babe." He swung his legs, leaping off the desk. "So, really. What is this?"

Mana sighed again, sour on the subject now.

"Colonel Taper asked I step up the investigation on Ikari. I'm getting access to the surviving NERV guys and even Ikari himself. He wants me to go over the others first, like they haven't been drilled enough. What does he think I'll find?"

"The truth," Musashi said.

"Wh-what?" Mana choked out, astounded he had said something so close to her true thoughts.

"The truth. You have it written here under his photo. What does it mean?"

"Give me that." She stole it back, frowning. "Get out of here. I mean it."

"Cute kid," Musashi said, taking one final peek at the file. He backed out of her office. "I bet you're sore you never got to meet him. Bet he kept you up some nights, huh? You always liked the weird ones."

"Get out!" she growled, standing up.

"Oh, yeah." He pitched his voice high again, mimicking her. "Oh, great and powerful Ikari-sama, how can I ever thank you for saving the earth? How about I go down on you? It's the least I could do." He dropped his tone. "Gee, thanks mysterious stranger. Don't mind if I pop you in the eye. Then I'll go and fuck the world over."

"_Get out!"_

"Geez," he said, beetling his brow. "Take a joke, why don't you? See you at lunch. I'll save you a seat." He waved as he left.

Mana fell into her chair. God damn Musashi. Little prick. And anyway, who cared if Ikari used to make her hot? She was a kid, damn it, and he was the savior of the earth. A little hero worship wasn't out of the ordinary back then. All the girls did it. Hell, some of the guys did. She remembered how grown men even drooled over the Eva units, touting statistics and records like they were baseball stars or something.

Sure. The Evas against the Angels, in scenic Japan stadium. Kids get in free, so bring the whole family. Base line seats to the apocalypse.

Mana groaned, stretching out over her desk. Her papers shuffled under her arms. Sure she wanted to meet him, but not now. Not like this. Not when he was considered an enemy of humanity. It always amazed her he wasn't executed. She supposed living in the world he helped create was punishment enough.

She pushed it all from her mind with an effort. No time to think like that now. Back to business.

She looked over the survivor list again, even though they wouldn't be ready for interview for a few days, like Taper said. One name, on a secondary sheet caught her eye. Someone from his class, but whom she hadn't contacted before. There were already extensive files on her, but talking to someone in person was always more telling than any description in a dossier. She found the current address, skipping over family history and the like. She checked her watch. She could make it if she hurried. Mana grabbed her coat and left.

* * *

The drive took her all day. She raced the sun to the horizon, speeding down the empty freeway. The town that met her as she crested a hill was small, a smattering of houses surrounding an electrical plant, white steam billowing up into the endless orange sky. As she entered the limits a few children greeted her by running away, leaving their toys in the street where they fell. Mana took care to drive around them.

It took her only a few minutes to find the house she wanted. She parked her car and was struck with how quiet the town was. No traffic, no pedestrians, children escaping her gaze. It was a little unsettling.

Mana rang the bell, sparing a second to glance over the modest house. She smiled at the carefully arranged flowers standing up from window boxes. She felt cozy.

The door opened and a frazzled looking woman peeked out. Mana snapped to attention.

"Hello?" the woman asked. Her brown hair fell into her eyes.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Kirishima. I'm here to talk to you. You were notified, correct?"

"Oh… yes. It's you." She opened the door. "Please come in."

"Thank you, Hiramoto-san." Mana stepped inside, and noticed a young child clinging to the woman. "Who's this?" she asked, grinning.

"Oh, this is my son, Suichi. Su-chan, say hello."

"Hello," the boy whispered, peeking out from behind the woman's legs.

"Hello, Suichi. I'm Mana. Is it okay if I talk to your mommy for a little?"

The boy nodded slowly, still gripping her dress. The woman gently extracted his hands, telling him to go and play in his room.

"Mama needs to talk to her, okay? Go on, now. Papa will be home soon. Go on."

The boy chewed on his thumb, shuffling down a side hall, stealing glances at the two women as he went. His door closed and the woman sighed.

"I'm sorry this is so late, and on such short notice," Mana said. "It is important."

"I know," the woman said. "Please, come in."

They walked into the kitchen, sitting at a crooked table. Mana saw the refrigerator, plastered with pictures in crayon and marker. She grinned.

"How old is your son?"

"Five." She smiled faintly. "He's still a little clingy. But he's a good boy. Very shy."

"I envy you, Hiramoto-san."

"Thank you." She waited a breath. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"No, thank you. If you don't mind, I'd like to begin, if it's okay with you."

"It's… it's okay. Let's begin."

Mana nodded. She pulled out a notepad.

"For my records, can I have your maiden name?"

"Horaki Hikari. You can call me Hikari if you want."

"Thank you, Hikari-san. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask some very personal questions. I apologize beforehand, but please keep in mind this will help us greatly."

"I know. I've talked to others like you before." Hikari gasped and covered her mouth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that! I just…"

"It's okay." Mana smiled, putting her at ease. "Don't worry about it. Let's begin. You attended school in Tokyo-3 in 2015, correct?"

"Yes."

"You came into contact with Ikari Shinji, correct?"

Hikari blinked.

"Oh. This is about him?"

"Yes. Did you think it was about someone else?"

"No, no, I…" Hikari shook her head. "Forget it. I'm sorry. Please continue. Yes, I knew him. Not well, but we talked now and then."

"Okay. What did you know about him?"

The brunette looked past Mana, to a point on the wall. She sighed.

"He was… very shy. Very private. He blushed easily, and was usually embarrassed when you talked to him. He apologized a lot. Asuka was usually angry at him."

"Asuka? You mean pilot Soryu?"

"Yeah. Asuka," Hikari said. "They lived together, you know. Not like… that, but as part of their training or something. I don't know. She didn't like to talk about it."

"You were friends with Soryu-san?" Mana asked.

"I think so. She was real private, too. But in a different way I think. Like she was too proud to let people near her. We hung out, and we talked, but we never really talked. I remember feeling real sad for her near the end."

"Did she ever talk about Ikari-san?"

"Yeah… yeah." She smiled. "A lot. Not as much as… what was his name? An older man, who worked at NERV… what was his name?"

Mana paused in her writing, surprised at how open Hikari was. Like strolling down memory lane was a picnic for her.

"What did she say about Ikari-san," she asked, trying to bring her back on topic.

"Oh… she'd always say how clumsy he was, how stupid and perverted he was. But I don't know. Whenever he talked to me he was a gentleman. He was nice to everyone I think. Not rude, or crude, or mean. He was a little naïve, I think, not really aware of other people, but not in a spiteful way, you know? Just sort of… unaware."

"Did Soryu-san ever talk about how he was in the Evangelion? Its okay, you can tell me. I have clearance."

"Oh… okay. She honestly never really talked about him like that. I didn't ask, either. To tell you the truth, those things scared me a little. There were times I'd just stop and be amazed at what was happening around me. That I was living through something like that. That anyone was. Asuka would talk in general about it. About how great she was at it, about how great she felt when she was inside it, about how Ikari-kun and Ayanami weren't needed."

"Ayanami?" Mana prompted.

"Ayanami Rei. She was a pilot, too. She was real quiet, stoic. Never talked unless talked too, and even then it wasn't a sure thing. I tried to be her friend, but she just sort of ignored everyone."

"You've talked to people before about these things, haven't you?" Mana asked, not liking the slightly glazed look filling her eyes.

"Yes. Awhile back it seemed that everyday someone new would talk to me." Hikari shrugged. "I just learned its best not to question them and answer as best I can. Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, no. Can you tell me anything else about Ikari Shinji?"

"I liked him. I thought he was nice. But… I don't think many other people did. Girls would say he was cute, and guys envied him, but no one really talked to him. I mean, he wasn't easily approachable, but still… I felt a little sorry for him. Oh! But he had friends. Aida and Suzahara. They hung out a lot after… after awhile. They were friends."

Mana felt the sun setting on her side, out the window. She glanced at the coloring clouds, the blood halo slowly gaining substance in the darkening heavens. She resisted the urge to turn on the kitchen light.

"Aida Kensuke and Suzahara Touji," Hikari elaborated. "They were friends. Well, until… until the thing with Suzahara…"

"The Unit-03 incident?" Mana asked, searching her brain. "When he was injured?"

Hikari nodded, looking away.

"Nobody ever told me what happened. Not even Suzahara or Asuka. I felt like they were hiding it from me. Do… do you know what happened, Dr. Kirishima?"

"Not really," Mana evaded. "I probably know about as much as you do."

"Oh. Forgive me for asking. I just… I don't know. I guess the less I know, the better, huh?" She chuckled weakly.

"When did you move out of Tokyo-3?"

"It was… it was shortly after that. Asuka had been hurt in an attack… she cried in front of me. I mean, she never cried. Ever. She stayed at my home for days and days… just playing games, not going to school, or home… she never told me what happened. I was too afraid to ask. Things were coming apart… and then I moved away. I was caring for Katsuragi-san's penguin, too…"

"Ikari-san's guardian?"

"Yeah… she gave me her penguin because she couldn't take care of it anymore. She said it was safer if I had it." Hikari's lips quivered. "But… but then… then the Impact thing happened… and I…" She sobbed once, making her body jump. "When I came back I went to my old house… to make sure he was alright… Penpen, that was his name… when I came back I went to see him, because Katsuragi-san would want to know he was alright. I mean she trusted me with him, so… but when I found him he was dead. He was dead, like he'd been dead a long time… he was all dried out, like a husk, and bugs were crawling on him… I…" She bit back several sobs. "I buried him in our backyard. I made a headstone out of cardboard, but I didn't know when he was born, and I didn't know what year it was, either… so I just wrote his name. That was all I knew."

Mana pursed her lips, glancing away in courtesy. Hikari's tears fell down her face.

"I… I just..." She sniffled. "I'm sorry. I mean, I never even saw Katsuragi-san again, or Asuka, or Ikari-kun, or anybody. I didn't see anybody." She bowed her head, letting her cries make her shoulders rock. She sighed after a time, forcing breaths from her nose. "I thought they might be on the news, or find me someday, but… but it's been years. I can't forget them, though. I can't."

Mana stayed silent, her tongue heavy in her mouth. She'd seen breakdowns just like this, far worse even, but still, she felt bad. She felt hurt. This was her doing, she made her remember, she made her cry. But she couldn't tell her anything. All she could do was wait. The interview needed to continue.

That was when the front door opened. Both women jumped.

"Hi-chan! Su-chan! I'm home!"

Hikari was on her feet, her tears gone. She forced a smile.

"Kazu!" she beamed as a tall man walked into the kitchen. "Welcome home." She gave him a peck and he wrapped an arm around her.

"We have company?" he asked.

"Yes. This is Dr. Kirishima, from the military. Dr. Kirishima, this is my husband, Kazu."

The man's long face faltered on the word military, but he recovered in a flash.

"Pleased to meet you," he said. They stayed in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, faces straining to keep things happy. "Say," Kazu said. "Where's that son of ours?"

"Su-chan is in his room."

"Oh? I hope he wasn't being bad." He said the last word with a grin.

"No, I just didn't want him to get in the way while we were talking."

Mana shifted under the pressure in the room. She put her notepad away.

"Oh," Kazu said, offhandedly. "Could you check on him, hon? I don't want him to catch the house on fire, or anything." He chuckled.

Hikari hesitated, then stepped away.

"S-sure." She stopped, and turned to him. "It's okay," she whispered.

Kazu smiled and nodded. He stayed that way until she closed Suichi's door. He sighed and his face collapsed.

"Excuse me," Mana said, hating herself. "But may I ask your age?" He looked older, he was certainly older, but she had to be sure.

"I'm thirty," he said. "Why?" His tone was sharp.

"Sorry. I just needed to check. Forgive me."

Kazu sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"What more do you want from her? She's told you people all she knows. Can't you let her be? Can't you let her forget now?"

"I'm sorry."

"She doesn't know anything about those machines," Kazu said, his voice low. "She was never even near one of them. She barely knew those damn pilots. But you keep making her relive it, you won't give her any time to rest and be happy. She has a family now, okay? She has a son. I'm sick and tired of you calling on her every single time you need your memory refreshed."

"I'm sorry," Mana said. "It was…" She shook her head. "We should have known better. Forgive me. I didn't know."

Kazu blew out a breath and leaned against the wall.

"It's… okay. Just… just don't come back, alright? She's a strong woman, but she can't stay in the past forever. She can't be dragged back into it forever. Please, just… leave and never return." He looked at her. "I love her. I love her and Su more than anything. They're like the reason I came back. So please, just go."

Mana bowed, letting him see it.

"I am sorry. Thank you for your understanding. I won't bother you anymore."

Mana raised herself and left. She got into her car and leaned back, closing her eyes. She waited, breathing in and out, sinking in the darkness. She turned the car on without looking, feeling the illumination of the dash against her face. Mana opened her eyes slowly, and gazed at Hikari's house. The kitchen light was on, and people were moving inside. Mana committed the sight to memory, and drove away.

* * *

End of chapter 2

Author's notes: before you crucify me for not having Hikari wind up with Touji, let me explain. This is just my personal feeling, and feel free to disagree, but that whole relationship always felt a little tacked on to me. Like it was included solely to increase the drama of the Touji pilot arc. I mean, she expressed more of an interest in Asuka before that point. I know I'll receive a flame or two for this, but it was how I felt. Besides, what I have in mind for Suzahara is more interesting. At least, I think so.

Musashi and Asari are from the game Girlfriend of Steel, though I know absolutely zero about them, except their basic personality types. I really don't like how he turned out, but so what? He was filler. But any info on them would be appreciated, and if I've butchered them, I apologize.

And thanks to my reviewers. I know my beginnings are weak and drawn out, and I appreciate your support. Next chaptershould be a little more interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

I Knew Him When chapter 3

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: I never thought I'd ever be writing a post EoE fic. I usually don't like them that much. Funny how life works out. I don't own Evangelion.

* * *

"Shinji? Yeah, I knew him. I was his friend."

Mana sat in Aida Kensuke's cramped apartment, taking notes, her shoulders pressed against twin stacks of computer hardware, most of which she was fairly sure were illegal.

She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Her seat was a burnt out monitor, the screen a dazzling shade of ash. Aida sat across from her on a cushioned chair, unapologetic.

"And I don't believe what you government people say. He was a hero. He risked his life time and again for everyone, even though he hated it." He shook his head. "I can't believe I ever wanted to be in the military."

_Okay, so I'm not going to be his friend,_ Mana thought. _That avenue's closed. Best to just be professional now._

"So you knew him. How did you first meet?"

"In school," he said, like talking to her was the worst form of torture imaginable. "Where else? He got suckered into admitting he was the pilot of Unit-01, and everybody pounced on him. My friend Touji, his sister was hurt during the first battle, against Sachiel."

How the hell did he know its name?

"She was crushed under some rubble. She was alive, but Touji took it hard. He called Shinji out and punched him. Just like that. Without a second thought." Kensuke frowned. "It wasn't like Shinji meant to hurt anybody. I mean, they threw him into that thing without any training, like he was supposed to just pick it up on the go." He scoffed. "Well, we both know how it ended."

Okay. Where was this guy getting his information? Mana nodded vaguely, suddenly fearing for her safety. Maybe coming here alone wasn't such a good idea.

"After that, during the next battle, Shamshel, I think, I snuck out with Touji and we saw Shinji fight. He got hammered pretty hard. Getting punched must have really messed him up, you know? So, the Angel flung him through the air and he landed right by us, almost killing us on the spot. Scared the bejeezus out of us. Then the Angel was right on him, but he couldn't move, cause' he'd crush us. Then, the back of the Eva opened up and this long tube sticks out, the entry plug. He calls us to climb in and we did."

Both he and Mana were leaning towards each other, caught up in the story. She already knew it, quite well, but hearing it from a first-hand witness was strangely exhilarating.

"We got inside and it was filled with this… goop. LCL. Link Connect Liquid. Or something like that. Smells like blood. Well, Shinji closes the plug up, and he shoves the Angel back, sending it careening into the city. Over the tac net major Katsuragi… wait, she wasn't major then… captain Katsuragi yells at him to retreat, but Shinji, he just keeps repeating this phrase. Something like 'I can't go away'. I don't know. He was whispering it. And over Touji's shouting, and Katsuragi's orders, I couldn't hear so well."

He stopped to lick his lips.

"So Shinji gets up, and draws out his Progressive Knife. He cups it low, about mid-waist, and charges at the Angel with a scream. And I mean, damn, that kid had a set of lungs on him. So he's charging, but the Angel shoots these two whips through his stomach. I swear I felt a twinge when they went through. But Shinji, he keeps going, jamming the knife into the core, still screaming. His umbilical cord was severed during the fight earlier, so the power's running down, everybody's yelling, crying, Shinji's losing it, and I swear on my life the damn Angel died just as the timer hit zero. I swear it."

He sat back, catching his breath, his eyes smiling behind his glasses. Mana retreated too, waiting to hear more.

"And then?" she asked.

"And then the entry plug went black. We were in silence. The only sound was Shinji crying. He kept his head down, so we couldn't see, but we heard. Damn," he said, shaking his head. "There was nothing we could do. I mean, we were only fourteen year olds. What could a kid say to that?"

Mana nodded.

"Well, after that we were picked up, chewed out, and sent home. Shinji… he didn't show up for school after that, so me and Touji went to see him. Heh, you know he was living with Katsuragi?" He laughed. "Anyway, turned out he ran away. That's right. How could I forget? I met him on the lam in a field. I was camping out, and he just stumbled onto my site. We ate, and like an idiot I said I envied him. I envied his chance to pilot. What a damn fool I was… anyway, he said… he said he wished he could look at it like I did. He seemed real sad. Again, what could I say?"

Kensuke blew out a breath, picking up a cold cup of coffee from the floor. He sipped it without conscious thought.

"NERV Section-2 picked him up in the morning. Then me and Touji met Katsuragi. Good looking woman. Heh. Can't believe Shinji was living with her. We talked, she said Shinji was leaving the city. I remember feeling… I don't know, a little ambivalent. I knew he had a hard time of it, piloting and all, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I thought I envied him, his ability, his life. I was caught up in the drama, I guess."

He shook his head slowly.

"Touji and me met Shinji at the train station, right as he was getting ready to leave. Touji, like an idiot, insisted Shinji punch him, to even the score. He just couldn't put his damn dick away for one second to say he was sorry. Well, Shinji punched him. He didn't hold back. Touji took it like a man; he didn't cry. His eyes were tearing up, but he didn't cry."

Kensuke shut his eyes.

"When… when the NERV guys were leading him away… Shinji, he forced his way back… he said he was the one who deserved to be hit. That he was cowardly and sneaky. But… I mean, there was no way that was true, right? I mean, he risked his life so many times. No coward could do that."

He sighed.

"Katsuragi came racing to the station after that, watching the train leave. She looked so sad. But… he didn't leave. Shinji stayed. I felt real glad. Like we were safer with him around. Well, after that whole thing me and Touji and him became friends, you know, in the way only stupid fourteen year old boys can be. We hung out, I'd pester him with questions about Eva and NERV. He was real patient with me. I knew… I knew he hated talking about it but I still kept…" He broke off, shaking his head again. "Damn."

"What… what was he like outside the Eva?" Mana asked a moment later.

"He was… quiet. Sort of sad. Just kind of went along without trying to make waves. It was cool for a time, you know? We hung out, shoot the shit, goofed off. It was great. But then… then that bitch arrived from Germany. Asuka," Kensuke said, his voice dripping with venom. "God damn it she made his life miserable. I mean an absolute hell. And the messed up part? He fucking wore a smile the entire time she treated him like shit. No, lower than shit. Like something she dug out of her ear. Like dirt. Like the ground she spit on. He smiled the whole time."

"I heard he liked Soryu-san."

Kensuke frowned.

"Maybe. I don't know. She was cute if you just looked at her, but every time she opened her mouth… damn it. Geez. Between her and Ayanami Shinji was on an emotional rollercoaster all the time. But the less said about her the better, right?"

It was Mana's turn to frown. Was he _trying_ to get arrested?

"Man, and he had to live with her. Asuka." He shivered. "Geez."

"So he and Soryu-san didn't get along?"

"Hell no. Most of the time she was shouting at him, or calling him a pervert, which is absolutely ridiculous by the way. Shinji never cared about that stuff. I think she was the one thinking about it, but she could never admit she got off on him so she punished him for it. I don't know. He said she could be nice, but he'd say that about anyone. It's just the kind of guy he was."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Kensuke sighed, letting his memories wash over him. He adjusted his glasses.

"It was… the day Touji was injured in Unit-03. We were eating lunch, and he got a call. He rushed off. The next thing I knew, Touji was in the hospital missing a leg, and Shinji was leaving town. I don't… really know what happened out there, but there's no way Shinji would ever hurt somebody intentionally. Never. He just didn't have it in him."

"He didn't leave the city, though," Mana said.

"No, he didn't. He came back. Beat Zeruel… he came back. Then everything… fell apart." He heaved a big sigh. "I never saw him again. I miss him, you know. Wish I could tell him I'm sorry I acted like such a moron back then. Sorry I didn't see how much he was suffering. I wonder if anybody did."

"What… what do you remember about the Impact?"

"I was at my cousin's house in… oh who cares. I was sitting on my bed, then…" He snapped his fingers. "Instant liquid. Came back in about four years, I think. Wished I could have come back sooner. Then I might have met up with Shinji again. Damn I'd love to talk with him again. Ask him…" He faded off, looking out the window. It was dark. "Well, I'm tired, so I'm going to have to kick you out, Dr. Kirishima."

"Oh, yes, I should be going. Thank you for your time, Aida-san."

"Yeah. Hey, if you see Shinji… I mean if he's alive… tell him… 'hi', would you?"

"I can't promise anything, Aida-san, sorry."

"Yeah. I understand." He nodded. "I understand."

Mana paused as she stepped out the door, glancing back over her shoulder.

"I thought you didn't like the military. Why were you so talkative?"

"Because you people need to know the truth. Shinji is a hero. Why we aren't all bowing down at his feet, begging forgiveness from him is beyond me. He saved the world so many fucking times and we treat him like a leper. We call him a monster, a devil, something not human, and you know what? He'd do it all again to save us. I'm sure of it. He'd go through hell again just to keep our stinking, ungrateful asses out of the fire. Because that's the kind of guy he is. He's a damn hero."

* * *

_Aida Kensuke. Possible cult member. Look into finances. Possible computer hacker._

Mana closed her notepad and started her car. She started back the long road to her tiny home, fiddling with the radio tuner, hoping to find a good pop song to spend the trip with.

* * *

"H-hello?"

"Hello," Mana said. "I'm Dr. Kirishima. I'm here to see your brother?"

"Oh… yes," the girl said, slowly opening the door all the way. "The military doctor who wanted to see my brother. Please come in."

"Thank you." Mana entered, and nearly tripped over a pile of unopened mail.

"You can put your shoes wherever," the girl said, not quite looking at her.

"Alright."

The two left the front hall and sat in a small kitchen. Mana was given the only chair. The girl sat on a crate.

"Forgive the mess," she said. "We don't get a lot of visitors. You're the first in a long time. For awhile, it seemed they came everyday. It was easier to keep the place clean back then. But times change, I guess." The girl blinked. "Oh, forgive me. My name is Azumi."

She had a slow way of talking, like she was constantly trying to fight off sleep. Her eyes were half-closed. No, only one was. The skin above her left eye flapped down, partially obscuring the dull eye. It was malformed, scarred.

"Pleased to meet you, Azumi-san." Mana waited. "Um, is your brother in?"

"Oh, yes, he's always in." She smiled at that, squinting. "Yes, he's in, but he's asleep. It's very important he gets enough sleep, you know. Very important."

"I see." Mana looked around the room, searching for anything to keep her mind off that eye. It was too bad, really. She was a pretty girl, a nice figure. Except that eye…

"Should I wake him?" Azumi asked.

"Oh, I don't want to be a bother…"

"No bother. We have a visitor. He should be up." She stood from the crate and padded off to a side room, banging on the door. "Brother, wake up! We have a visitor."

There was a sizable groan from behind the door, followed by a rough shout.

"Who is it?"

"A doctor from the military, brother. Don't make her wait." Azumi looked back at Mana, grinning. "He's always like this." She turned back to the door. "Touji, get up!"

"Alright, alright! I'm up, I'm up!" A tall man stumbled out of the bedroom, leaning on a cane, somehow forgetting his shirt in the process of waking up. He peered at Mana. "Who're you?"

"I'm Dr. Kirishima, from the military. I'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind. I believe you were telephoned about this…"

"Yeah, yeah. I remember. Just forgot, that's all." Touji frowned when he saw Mana sitting on the chair. He slumped down on the crate. His false leg hung out at an odd angle. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Um… well, do you mind if your sister listens? I don't want to seem rude…"

"Oh, no," Azumi said. "It's time for me to go to work, anyway." She put on an overcoat. "Be sure to answer all her questions, brother. I'll be back for supper, okay? I left you your lunch in the fridge. Have a nice day." The door to the apartment closed with a bang, and the two were left alone.

"So? What do you want?" He scratched his nose to cover his once over of her body.

"I wanted to talk to you about Ikari Shinji. You knew him, right?"

Touji bent over, laughing.

"Of course it's about him. It always was. Sure! I'll talk about old Shin-chan. What do you want to know? His shoe size? His favorite ice cream? How about the music he always listened to on that player of his? Or something more personal? How about the time I found him cryin' late at night one time he stayed over? He cried like a baby, snifflin' for his mama. What else do you want to know?"

Mana smoothed the wrinkles on her dress, feeling rather stifled sitting across from this shirtless man. She tried an indirect approach.

"What do you know about his family life?"

"Oh, God! You're not goin' for the meaty questions, huh? Fine, fine. Sure. His home life. Lived with a gorgeous babe, Misato. What a goddess. He always acted like he didn't see her, but I knew he did. I knew. He wasn't foolin' anyone. And Asuka. God, what a bitch. What a God damn bitch. Rode his ass everyday, like she was getting rich off it. Slapped him around real good." Touji breathed in. "Let everybody ride him. They all had a grand old time on Shinji."

Mana nodded, wondering if she could just leave.

"You know he never wanted to pilot?" Touji asked. "Serious. I never wanted to either. But some blonde bitch said I could get better care for my sister if I did." He crooked his finger over his eye. "Yeah, they did wonders. And all it cost me was a leg. What a bargain. I should have signed up for the Eva gravy train a long time ago."

"You hold a grudge against NERV?"

"Me and everyone else on earth. Don't you?"

"Do you hold a grudge against Ikari Shinji?" Mana asked.

Touji sputtered.

"I don't know. God, I want to hate him so bad. So bad. I hear the rumors. Like how he caused all this shit. The Impact. All us comin' back to a dead world." He snorted. "My grandpa came back, just to get cancer. What a fuckin' joke, right? His medical bills ate up all our cash. The government was frontin' it for awhile, but then the UN came in and fucked us over. I can't fuckin' do anythin', and the only job Azumi could get was a waitress at some dive. It barely keeps us alive. God, we had to watch grandpa die cause' we couldn't pay anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"Uh huh. So what. Can you climb in an Eva and make the world right again? Turn everythin' back to the way it's supposed to be? No way. Not even Shinji could do that. Like that pussy would even if he had the chance."

"When did you begin to hate him?"

"When I came back. Everybody said he did it. I have no fuckin' idea how he did. I mean, sure, the Eva could do some crazy shit, but kill the whole world? Man… it's all like a bad dream, you know?"

"When did you return?" Mana asked.

"Let me think… about five years ago. Give or take. Azumi was already back before that. It was a miracle I even found her. Now we're together, just like old times." Touji grinned, filling with self-pity. "She takes care of me, you know. Like I'm a cripple. Like I can't take a shit by myself. I hate it when she acts that way, but God, she's all I have. I ain't got nothin' left in this world."

"Have you contacted the military about your situation? Perhaps they could—"

"What? Do what? They don't need me. They don't give a shit. I ain't important like Shinji or even Asuka or what's her face. Ayanami. All they need are those three. Hell, all they need is Shinji. The boy wonder. What… what did Asuka call him? The invincible Shinji-sama. That's it. That's all they need."

Mana restrained her frown, trying to stay as neutral in front of this man as possible.

"When was the last time you saw Ikari-san?" she asked.

"I can't remember. Probably at school or somethin'. My memory ain't so good. Heh. You know there's a cult that worships him? Worships the pilots like they're messengers from God. And the Evas. They're like Gods, too. What a joke. Shinji wasn't no God. He was barely a man." He shook his head. "I heard there were like, tons of Evas when people first came back. All crucified out in the sea of blood. That's pretty messed up, ain't it?"

"I wouldn't know, Suzahara-san."

"Really? No? I thought since, you know, you're in the military, you might know about that. No, huh? Too bad." He sniffed. "Why you wanna' know 'bout Shinji, anyway? You one of those freaky chicks that wants to have his baby?"

"Ex…excuse me?"

"What? You don't know? Go down to the subway sometime, or the kitchens. You'll find one of them there, running 'round half naked, screaming to the sky for Shinji to drop his seed in her." Touji chuckled. "If Shinji ever heard them, he'd blush like a kid, you know? Look away, sayin' he was nothing special. God damn. I bet he's still a virgin. He'd be so damn nervous he'd pass out or some shit." He glanced at Mana. "So? You want him?"

"Maybe I should leave," she said, collecting her things. "Thank you for your time, Suzahara-san. I'll see what I can do about your situation. You may not believe it, but everyone involved with NERV is an invaluable resource."

Touji stared at her.

"Don't fuckin' kid yourself. Do whatever you want, but don't think you're doin' me no favors. Every time one of you military dogs comes lookin' me up, you say the same old shit." He shook his head. "I ain't nothing to nobody. I was in the wrong damn place at the worst possible time. I never even set foot in NERV. I don't even know why I survived. It's a God damn joke, you know. I come back still missin' a leg, my sister comes back still all fucked up. And Shinji… he's the new fuckin' God on this world."

"He's only a man," she said.

"He made this!" he shouted at her. "You've got to know more than me. You know he made this shit! Him and that fuckin' demon that fucked me over." Touji frowned, shaking with frustration. "You should just do us all a favor and kill that son of a bitch."

Mana left. The wisdom of the military whispered in her ears. Why…? Why were the pilots still alive? This was a world nearly devoid of human rights. A few quiet executions wouldn't be strange at all.

This was a broken planet, filled with broken people. All living broken lives. It was easy for Mana, cushioned within the disconnect of the military, to distance herself from the harsh reality of the post-Impact world. True, she listened to them, saw their dying souls, witnessed their pitiful lives, but she could always stay remote, filtering the information she received through a carefully constructed system that had kept her sane all these years. But every so often she'd admit to herself that she was just like everyone else, existing on the edge of sanity. Now and then a gust of hate, or an obsessive wind made her teeter, but she had become a kind of acrobat, able to balance, tip-toe, upon the razor.

Mana had to see herself in times like this. A woman propelled by relentless forces, keeping her eyes forward the whole time, not willing to cast her gaze to her feet, and all those she tread upon. All those she passed. She realized she was not an exceptionally compassionate person, nor did her thoughts stray to the deep and philosophical.

She was a failed spy, tainted by the knowledge of her failure, the entire damned earth spread out before her, between a bloody sky and a bloody sea.

She looked up. The halo was strong tonight. Bright, like a shallow cut. She waited until the moon dipped behind the sparkling crimson banner. She waited until Azumi returned to her decrepit home. She waited in the deep dark, in the dead city, on the broken world. She waited, and wondered why.

* * *

End of chapter 3

Author's notes: Kensuke's a bit obsessed, isn't he? I liked how he turned out. Sort of bitter, in denial, looking for something to believe in. I think it's very possible he's a cult member. Sorry about the Asuka bashing. I like her, really! And next chapter, we get to meet her…

Suzahara Azumi? I have no idea what Touji's sister is called. I read a couple fics where she's named Mari, one where she's even called Rei. I don't know. I just liked the way it sounded. Cute.

I know some of you might find Touji's portrayal offensive, but all I can say to that is "suck it."


	4. Chapter 4

I Knew Him When chapter 4

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: this one's going to get a little strange… I don't own Eva

* * *

"I was one of the first to come back," Aoba Shigeru said. "When I returned, there were already a few others, a couple dozen maybe, and nobody was real calm. A lot of people thought it was hell. I couldn't blame them for that belief, and I didn't rub it in their faces when they finally knew better. Survival, fear of death… it'll make you live. Even in the worst possible scenarios. We realized that pretty quickly. That wasn't to say it was peaceful. No. Murder, rape, theft, assault… it was all there. People were afraid. They were terrified. I didn't blame them."

"How did you survive?" Mana asked him.

Aoba looked around his house, as if searching for an answer. It was sparsely decorated, only the bare necessities to keep from going mad. The most dominant feature was an old guitar mounted on the wall above a window, like some trophy. Mana found it sad, someway.

"We survived because we had to," he told her. "Nobody was willing to die again. It was the one thing we all had in common. Differences… they were still there, but after awhile, they didn't seem to matter as much. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of people I wanted to kill but I didn't. Every so often I'd see a military guy in full uniform… that damned black armor… but I kept it together, somehow. I kept it together. We… I mean, survivors from NERV, we banded together, helped out as much as people would let us. Penance, I suppose. We did what we could."

"When did you see the pilots?"

"Asuka and Shinji… I think they were the first ones back. I don't know why. It just seemed right. It made sense."

Why it made sense was something he kept to himself.

"I'd see them once in awhile. Out at the edges of the camps, walking, or just gazing out at something. There were… a lot of things to look at back then. Out in the sea…" Aoba shivered. "But they were usually together. Asuka and Shinji. Not holding hands, or anything. Just… near each other."

"Were they in love?"

"No… I don't think so… it was like they were resigned to each other. It was sad, watching them."

"Were they lovers?" Mana asked.

Aoba reflected on the question.

"I doubt it. I mean, they were only fourteen."

Mana had forgotten that.

"They stayed close to each other though," Aoba continued. "Even after other people started to come back. They were both… faded. Well, Shinji was never a go get em' type guy, but Asuka… it was like her fire had been extinguished." He frowned. "I won't pretend to know what happened to them during the Impact…" He made sure to use the popular terminology. "…but it couldn't have been good."

He sighed.

"They'd barely ever talk, even to me, even to other NERV personnel. They kept to themselves. I don't know if they talked to each other, or just kept silent about the whole thing. There were a lot of things between those two. Even at such a young age, there were a lot of things going on." Aoba sighed again. "They lived away from everyone else, by themselves. Nobody ever tried to bring them into the fold, not after they found out who they were. I don't know. I should've tried, made more of an effort to reach out to them. But I was… I don't know. I resented them at first. Like it was their fault." He shook his head. "Selfishness was a common malady back then. I suppose it still is."

Mana nodded, making a note.

"Do you still resent them, Aoba-san?"

"No. It didn't last long, not for me. I guess… I was angry, at the situation. I had felt that they, the Children I mean, had failed. They were supposed to save humanity from a fate like this, and they failed. I was bitter. I… I never wanted to die."

Mana held her tongue, sensing he wasn't finished.

"One day, I don't remember when… those days seemed to run into each other… one day I was out walking, and I stumbled onto Shinji. He was bringing groceries to his and Asuka's home, in a burnt out old apartment complex. He was walking along a ruined road, not really watching where he was going, and he tripped. It looked painful, but he just picked himself up, and kept going. I mean, his arms were bleeding, badly, but he just… kept going. But then the bag he was carrying, the bottom ripped open, and all the food he had spilled out. He… he just looked at it, then, real subtle like, he started crying. Not… not gut-wrenching sobs, just a little crying. He started picking it all up, but he didn't have anything to carry them in. So he left most of it. As he walked away, he was still crying."

Aoba closed his eyes.

"It was then I reminded myself he was just a kid. It… it took me that long to remember that. Somewhere along the way, when he was risking his life everyday, fighting, I forgot that." He scoffed. "Like fighting can make your age vanish. Like it'll solve all the problems of youth. God… he was just a kid…"

"So you forgave him?"

"There was nothing to forgive anymore. Not from me. I mean, I didn't rush over to him and try to be his friend. That wasn't something you did back then. Not to anybody. But… in my heart… I tried to see the world from his point of view. Something I'd never done before. Not even… not even before."

"Did you ever have any contact with him after that day on the road?"

"Every so often Shinji would talk to me. He'd ask if major Katsuragi had returned yet, or Ayanami Rei." He shook his head. "They never did. I'd have to tell him that every time, and he'd just sort of look off, out at the sea, nodding to himself. He'd thank me each time, apologizing for taking up my time, and shuffle away. It… it always made me hate myself, just a little bit more each time he did that. It was like he knew they'd never come back, but he kept asking. Kept hoping. No, hope isn't the right word. It was futile, hopeless. But he just had to keep asking."

Aoba blew out a breath.

"I remember one day, I was walking along the beach, half searching for new survivors, half trying to get lost myself, when I found a grave. Not a real grave, there was no body of course, but a marker. It was a wooden cross, with a necklace hanging off it. I stayed there, just looking at it for the longest time. Not really wondering who made it, or why, but the necklace… I'd seen it before somewhere. But for the life of me, I just couldn't place it. Eventually I headed back to camp. I didn't take the necklace, it was a cross, too. I figured whoever made it had a good reason.

"The next day Shinji found me, asking about the major and Rei. I had to crush him again. That was when I remembered. I ran back to the grave. It was still there. The necklace was the major's. It was Katsuragi's. She… must have given it to Shinji. On… that day…"

"That day? You mean the Impact?" Mana asked.

Aoba stared off to the side. He scratched his hand. He stayed silent.

"You're not going to tell me what happened that day, are you?" she asked.

Aoba almost laughed.

"No, I'm not. If I didn't tell anyone before you, what hope do you have? Sorry. I don't mean to seem cruel, but I owe those children more than I can ever give. That was what I remembered when I came back, more than anything else. That my life belongs to them. And if I could help them, in any way, I would. I'm sorry, Dr. Kirishima. I know you're only doing your job, but so am I."

* * *

The rest of the survivors from NERV told a similar story. Anyone who did decide to speak about the Impact spun a dark tale, about the military's indiscriminant mowing down of unarmed people, a liquidation. Some recalled odd words like destrudo, or anti-AT field, or Terminal Dogma. No one could elaborate beyond breaking into tears, or clutching their heads and screaming.

Even the military who returned gave disparate tales. They were to contain the Evangelions, and "secure" the pilots. They glossed over the butchering of NERV, they all did, even those who hated the organization. Mana didn't press them.

No one could accurately describe what happened after the red unit's destruction, save one commander who swore on his life he witnessed the devil rising from NERV's pyramidal main structure.

The rest of NERV's survivors, like Aoba, were under house arrest. Locked away under guard and key, to be used only when an investigator like Mana decided it was time to question them again. The results were always the same. She hated grilling them like this, they had gone through enough as it was, but she couldn't refute the fact that hearing it firsthand gave her an advantage over those who relied solely on reports.

Mana glanced over the list of survivors again, placing a check next to Aoba Shigeru. The rest of the names were likewise marked, and she turned to the next page. She briefly recalled the rest of the higher-ups at NERV, wishing she could speak with Fuyutsuki Kouzo, or Hyuuga Makoto, or Ibuki Maya. Akagi Ritsuko and Katsuragi Misato were two names that came up almost every time as well. All were gone, dead, or deep within whatever dream the bloody seas gave them. Those, as well as two other names everyone mentioned, but were afraid to speak of.

Ikari Gendo and Ayanami Rei.

Mana shook it off. Those two hadn't returned yet, and probably never would. That was the impression she'd received over the last few dozen interviews. Best not to trouble herself with them. Besides, there were only two names left on the list. Only two, but two which would grant her more knowledge than all the rest combined. She read over the first, and decided now was as good a time as any to check up on her.

On Soryu Asuka Langley.

* * *

It was a nicer house than Aoba's. That was the first thought that struck Mana as she pulled up to Asuka's residence. She'd asked the guard at the gate about it, but all she'd told her was it was necessary.

The house was large, ostentatious even, with a meticulously cared for garden that arched around the driveway, entrance to exit. All the shutters were open, the doors, too. The architecture and design were typical military: efficient, to the point, lacking in creativity. Yet the drapes and flowers that highlighted the passable features made a very homey feel, rich, elegant, unique. Mana felt like she was pulling up to interview a celebrity.

Two more guards greeted her at the front door, stepping to either side to allow her access. Mana showed her credentials again, wondering if all this security was really needed.

"Go on in, Dr. Kirishima," one guard said. "You'll find Soryu in the sitting room, off to the left of the main hall. A guard will be with you the whole time, so don't feel afraid."

"Should I be afraid?" Mana asked, half-smiling.

"Normally, yes. Soryu doesn't really like women all that much. Not that you'd be in any real danger, but it's important to remember."

Mana looked around her.

"Um… could I ask you something?"

"Of course, doctor," the agent said.

"Well, why are all the guards here women?"

The agent shifted.

"Soryu got too friendly with the male ones."

* * *

"Welcome to my humble abode," Asuka said, with a flourish of her good arm. "Please, take a seat, doctor. You must be tired after your trip."

Mana blinked.

"Oh, thank you. I hope this isn't an inconvenience for you, Asuka-san."

"Please, call me Soryu-san, doctor."

"Oh, sorry. Of course." Mana sat, gazing at the goddess across from her. Asuka was gorgeous, easily supermodel class beauty, and she carried it with ease and grace. The scars were a pity. Her left eye was fused shut, gone, the eyebrow severed in two. She didn't try to hide it in any way, but seemed to flaunt it, daring anyone to mention it. Mana kept her own eyes on Asuka's good blue one.

"So," the former pilot said, still wearing her strange smile, "I take it you're here to learn about Third Impact."

"Y-yes, Soryu-san, if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" She flipped her luxurious long hair over her shoulder with her right arm, the loose blouse she was wearing falling back to reveal a long, perfect scar running down her limb from between her fingers. "You're only the three-hundredth and seventeenth person to question me about it. And only the twenty-eighth female." Her smile widened. "I do believe the female doctors are afraid of me. Are you, Dr. Kirishima?"

"I have no reason to be, Soryu-san."

Asuka frowned slightly, but only for a moment. She quickly recovered, casting her glance over to the guard stationed by the door.

"It is so dreary speaking to women," the redhead stated. "They took all my boys away, did you know that? They felt I was too nice to them. And now, all I have are boring little girls." She hummed a note. "You're not a lesbian, are you Dr. Kirishima?"

"No, I'm not."

Asuka hummed again, this time two notes.

"I see. No matter. Please, what would you ask me?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd speak about Ikari Shinji."

"Shinji?" She looked away, remembering. "Oh, yes. Shinji. I knew him quite well. We were both pilots, you know. Cute boy, if I recall correctly. What would you like to know about him? We lived together, too, you know. He was a marvelous cook."

"I was hoping you could tell me about him, in general," Mana said. "Anything that stands out to you."

"Anything? Well, let's see. He had dark hair and blue eyes. The most marvelous blue eyes. But I hardly ever got to see them. He was rather easily embarrassed I'm afraid, and eye contact seemed to be difficult for him. So was speaking to others."

"Was there… anyone he spoke to easily?"

"Mmm… no, not really. Misato used to talk with him, but it was mostly to tease. I wondered sometimes, if she was attracted to him. Sexually, I mean. She was a voracious woman when it came to men. At least, that was the sense she put out. That she was easy. I never bought it completely, but I'm sure she thought about taking him once or twice. It was hard not to."

Asuka sighed, a slight breath, and tilted her head.

"He had two friends. Two boys. They talked, I believe. To what extent I'm afraid I cannot say. I was rather… dismissive of them. And him, when he was with them. I did not like his attention diverted elsewhere. Certainly, you know the feeling, Dr. Kirishima. The feeling that a boy should pay you attention, even when others are vying for it?"

Mana nodded, trying to keep her going.

"I thought you would. You're very pretty, Dr. Kirishima." Asuka waited, as if wanting acknowledgement for the compliment. Her good eye twitched a moment, then she hurried on. "I remember him wanting to speak with his father. He was a cruel man."

"Ikari Gendo?"

"Y-yes. He was my commander. He was everyone's commander. Yes, he was. We had to do what he said."

"Yes, he was the commander of NERV," Mana said. "What did Ikari-san say about him?"

Asuka flinched.

"No, no. His name was Shinji. Not… Ikari-kun. Take that back."

"… okay, I apologize. What did Shinji-san say about his father?"

"Oh, how he wished they could talk, like father and son," she said, her good mood returning. "I felt bad, when he said that. But I couldn't tell him, no no no. I wanted him to… well, no matter." She smiled. "What else would you like to know?"

"Were you two friends?"

"Oh, yes, the best of friends," Asuka said quickly. "We were best friends. He was my friend. Shinji was my friend." Her smile wavered, and she chewed on her lip. It became a repetitive motion, her lower lip sliding in and out of her mouth. "He didn't say otherwise, did he?"

"I… haven't talked to him. So, you two were friends?"

"Yes, I already told you that. What else do you want to know?"

Mana glanced at the guard, then down to her note pad. She flipped a few pages.

"Did you know anything about Ayanami Rei? I heard that she and Shinji-san were close at one point."

"The First?" Asuka said. She plucked up a glass of water sitting by her and casually flung it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces and Mana jumped. "Yes, I knew her, too. Not as well as Shinji did, I'm sure, but we conversed occasionally. I seem to recall I hated her, very much. I still do. Isn't that silly? What with her dying like she did. I remember watching her face for hours on end, and laughing at her. I believe it made Shinji uncomfortable."

"Her face?"

"Don't you know?" Asuka gave a delicate laugh. "Somehow she became a giant. Shinji never told me how, but it was clear she did. Her body parts were scattered across Japan. An arm here, a foot there, half her face just sitting on a mountain range. I do wonder what became of those. Do you know, Dr. Kirishima?"

"N-no… no, I don't."

"A pity. It has bothered me some, how she became a giant. And it seemed to upset Shinji everyday. He would cry often, you know. Sometimes without any provocation. Sometimes he would simply sit down and weep, whether I was right there or not. Very peculiar."

"You never cried, Soryu-san?" A risky question, but Mana decided to take a chance.

"No, I did not," she said, her smile vanishing. "I am very proud of that fact."

Mana took a short breath, and tried to decide where to head next. She was preparing to proceed when a small boy bounded into the room. His hair was red, his eyes were blue. He was quite pretty. Like a smaller, male version of Asuka. Mana wracked her brain for the boy's name. It was—

"Oh, Ryouji!" Asuka said, her voice filled with sugar. "You're awake from your nap." The boy stopped by her leg, and stared at Mana. "This is Dr. Kirishima. She wants to make me recall my past. Isn't that dreadful of her?"

The boy nodded, glowering at Mana. He patted Asuka on her leg.

"Thank you dear." Her eye darted up to Mana. "This is Ryouji, my son. Isn't he lovely? What a dear, sweet boy he is. He keeps me company. He came out of me, you know. It was quite painful, and I've told him that, and he's apologized for it. What a dear he is."

"May I ask who the father is?"

"The father? I really don't know. For a time I thought it was Shinji, but then I remembered he never entered me. It was rather odd of him, never to do that. I knew he wanted to, he was a teenage boy, after all, and I was a pretty girl, but he never did. Even when we were alone, on the beach, and all the months after that, he never did. Hmm. He tried once, I even told him he could, but in the end all he did was cry over me. How odd of him. Oh well."

Asuka collected her son into her arms, placing him on her lap.

"Do you have any children, Dr. Kirishima?" she asked suddenly.

"No, I don't, Soryu-san."

"Oh, how sad. I remember I never wanted any, either. My job kept me fairly busy. I had an important job, you know. I was a pilot. An elite pilot." She sounded the word 'elite' out, hanging on the syllables. "I had hoped my son could have followed in my footsteps, but the people say the Evangelions no longer exist. Strange, is it not? Those strong things not existing anymore. I think my little angel would make a great pilot, don't you?" Her hands trickled through Ryouji's hair, the boy giving no reaction to her touch.

"Little angel?" Mana couldn't help but ask. She thought it in exceedingly poor taste.

"Yes, that's what I call him sometimes. He's my little angel. Aren't you?"

Ryouji remained stoic.

"I… I heard you fought against nine white Evangelions," Mana said, trying to take control of the situation again. "Do you know where they came from?"

"No, I don't. I heard someone say they were the 'mass produced models', but beyond that, nothing. They came down from the sky and I beat them. It was a tremendous battle it was. They tried to kill me but they couldn't. I killed them." She bounced Ryouji on her knee. "But then, oh it was rather unfair, they got back up, even after I killed them. They threw terrible things at me. Would you like to see?"

Asuka didn't wait for an answer. She threw Ryouji off her lap, and the boy landed on the floor without a sound. Asuka tore her blouse off, revealing her chest. One breast was deformed, split in half, pressed down to the bone. Its twin was perky, and perfect. Scars criss-crossed down her body, long, deep, scars. They dug trenches in her skin. Her stomach bulged in certain places, skin hanging down here, tucked in there. Asuka stood, turning around to show her back, exit wounds covering from waist to neck.

"I can't quite remember if they hurt or not. I imagine they did at the time."

Ryouji sat on the floor, playing with the laces on his shoes.

"Could I see yours?" Asuka asked, turning back around. Her lack of clothing was paid no attention by her. "I'd love to compare."

"I'd… I would rather not, if you don't mind, Soryu-san," she said softly.

Her face twisted, suddenly furious.

"Don't call me that! Never call me that name! I'm Asuka! I am not pilot Soryu!" She tried to gather the tattered blouse that hung at her waist. "You're all the same, all of you. You pretend to be so perfect, so clean, so above all of it. You say it doesn't matter that you're the favorite, but it does! He rescued you that time, you bitch! _He rescued you and didn't rescue me!_"

Asuka stepped forward, her legs kicking Ryouji to the side. The boy rolled, still silent. Mana pushed back in her seat, terrified.

"He'd always save you. I heard him. I heard him that night. He whispered your name. He was supposed to go inside me that time but _he whispered your name!_"

Then the guard standing by the door was at her side, placing a firm hand on her bare shoulder. Asuka cringed from the touch.

"Don't you dare lay your hands on me!" She spun around, flinging the guard's hand off her. She sneered at her. "You don't know me." Her body sagged, and she returned to her seat. She kept her head down, and stayed silent for a long time. At length she raised her head, looking perfectly normal again. "Oh, forgive me. I don't usually lose my temper like that. You just… reminded me of her for a moment." Her eye trembled. "You… you won't tell Shinji, will you? He'll get angry. We can't have that."

"I…" Mana licked her lips. "I promise I won't tell him, Asuka-san."

"Oh, please call me Soryu-san." She snatched Ryouji off the floor. "Well, it's late. I do hope you'll visit us again. I'm lying, you know. I just say that because Ryouji is here. I want him to grow up and be polite, just like Shinji. He was always so polite."

Mana got up, shaking a little, and wished Asuka a good night. As she was walking out, the redhead called to her.

"If you see Shinji, could you tell him… that I wish he were the father of my little angel? I really do wish it."

Asuka caressed Ryouji's neck, her fingers gently twining round to the front, meshing with one another. She smiled as her nails dragged across his skin. Ryouji smiled too.

* * *

End of chapter 4

Author notes: Hoo boy. I'm expecting several flames on Asuka's behalf, and I suppose I deserve them. Originally, I imagined her bitter, angry at Shinji, at the world, but that was what people might expect. I didn't want to turn her soft either, desperately longing for Shinji. I think I found a happy medium. Actually, as I wrote her, I found her more and more like a little child, the child she might have been given her traumatic past. Again, I _am_ a fan of Asuka, I swear, even if it wasn't communicated in this. I think she's had to go through an awful lot, all the Children have, and she finally reached her breaking point.

Speaking of breaking points, next chapter we finally meet Shinji. Get ready to get disappointed.


	5. Chapter 5

I Knew Him When chapter 5

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: still feeling the backlash from last chapter, I continue. I don't own Eva

* * *

"There are certain things you should see, before you meet him," Taper said. "Things that are only now offered to you. It is important to have all the information available to you before you see him."

He sent a folder to Mana across his desk, pushing it with his thick fingers. She opened it.

"What…" She shook her head. "Sir, what is this?"

"His suicide note."

Mana blinked.

"He's… dead?"

"No," Taper said with a frown. "It was a failed attempt."

She stared at the neatly printed paper, three words written in sharp, precise script.

Kaworu. Misato. Ayanami.

"This was all he wrote, sir?" she asked.

"Yes. We know who the last two are, obviously. The first remains, to this day, a mystery to everyone."

"A… classmate? A friend?"

"We thought of that. Believe us, we've been pondering this one out for awhile." Taper sighed. "We've gone through school transcripts, NERV documents, diary entries… everything that produced any kind of written record in Tokyo-3. Nothing. We had a few hits on residents, but no one who had any contact with Ikari. We're at a loss."

"Well… sir, has anyone asked him?"

"Of course, but he doesn't talk about it." Taper pursed his lips. "The early reports on him, when he was first taken into custody seven years ago, differ greatly from the most recent ones you know. The cut off point, so to speak, was the suicide attempt. Ever since then he's been… different."

Mana looked away.

"How were the early reports different, sir?"

"He was insane," Taper said. His blocky face betrayed no sympathy, no emotion. "He was very insane. He had to be restrained in almost every meeting. Doctors sedated him, but it only halted the episodes. Every little thing seemed to set him off."

"What exactly do you mean, sir?"

"He severely injured himself, resulting in hospital stays, hyperventilated several times, assaulted doctors and guards, had to be fed by tubes… you name it." Taper sounded like he was reading off a shopping list. "Then he slit his wrists. He was a handful."

"And now, sir?" Mana asked.

"Now?" He shrugged. "It's strange. It's like he's completely changed. He talks coherently, carries conversations, shows respect to others, takes care of himself… I personally don't know what to make of it all. That's where you come in, doctor."

"I assume others have spoken to this new Ikari before me, correct, sir?"

"Of course. He'll talk, but never about what we want. Most of the doctors think he's intentionally hiding it. The others think he's reached some new level of insanity. Well, try not to be swayed by them too greatly. I want a fresh opinion from you. Read over the old reports, but don't let them guide you."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll be honest. No one… no one really expects you to succeed, Dr. Kirishima. Many doctors have been making life studies on Ikari, and all tell the same tale. It seems he's forgotten, or refuses to remember what happened during the Impact. Just remember, any information you can get from him will be a great help. Good luck."

* * *

She wasn't sure what to expect. If anything, she was expecting to be surprised. To be certain she had cultivated a few ideas over the years about what the famous Ikari Shinji would be like in person, ranging from depressed bouts concerning a homicidal madman, to the ever popular and ludicrous visions of a dashing hero straight out of an action movie. Somehow she knew the truth would be far less dramatic.

His house was smaller than Asuka's, though it lacked the cheerful façade of the redhead. There was no real symmetry like she secretly hoped for; the coloring was drab and utterly military, showing no alteration from when it was first put up; no garden on its impressive plot; the windows haphazardly closed and opened at random. There was nothing on its face to hint at what it contained.

It was a private safe house located in a hilly forest the military used for relocation and private interrogation. It had been converted several years ago, to free space from the already overcrowded main bases, into a normal home, furnished and filled for one. It was surrounded by a barbed fence, and maintained by half a dozen agents. Mana was reminded of the old saying, about hiding something valuable in plain sight. The house was a little over three miles outside the nearest city, and passing by it with a glance it looked no different than a private estate, or an expensive forest cabin.

She was led into the compound by a burly guard who looked excruciatingly bored with his life. Mana had difficulty believing anyone could be bored when they were so close to a living legend. Well, he was a foreigner.

Mana knocked on the front door, feeling light and giddy. She had dreamed of this moment so many times being presented with the actual reality itself seemed like a dream. She held her breath as the door opened.

"You must be the doctor," Shinji said as Mana walked into his prison home. "Welcome."

She stared up at him. Her mouth worked slowly. Molasses spilled from her lips.

"I'm Dr. Kirishima Mana, out of the UN's provisional government military in Kyoto. I believe you were informed I'd be stopping by today?"

"Yes, I was."

He was leading her into his home, down a narrow front hall to a spacious side room, filled floor to ceiling with overflowing bookcases. She glanced over the spines. Psychology texts, biology, psychiatry, sleep disorder, dreams, physics, computer science, archeology, anatomy, human sexuality, abnormal brain function, evolution, space exploration, climate records, genetics, socio-political theses.

Mana's eyes stopped over a section of the books, enthralled by the scope and range.

_Applied Functions of Collective Human Behavior and Action. Group Psychology and its Applications in Society. Shared Thought Patterns and Experiences in Humans. Mass Consciousness: Thought Incarnation as Communal Recognition. Complexity Theory: A Treatise into Organizational Structure of Human Civilization._

Her brain hurt just reading the titles. She looked away. Her eyes fell on a weathered cello standing alone in a corner. There was no sheet music near the instrument, but she could tell it was well used. Small nicks and dents on the frame, strings bunched near its head, scratches on the floor circling the stand. She wondered if he was any good.

In the middle of the room was a long couch, a coffee table, and a wooden chair. They were minimalist, simple and basic, but they complemented the room as a whole. There was no pretension, or ostentatious airs. The entire décor spoke of intelligence and sophistication.

"You're young," Shinji stated.

"Is that a problem?" Mana asked, turning back to him.

He stared at her for a moment, and she began to think he might say that it was.

"No," he finally said absently. He gestured to the couch. "Please, sit. Make yourself at home. I'm afraid I can't offer you much, but could I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? I don't have much… sorry."

He was tall. That was the first thing that struck her. He had to be nearly five six, and his slim frame made him seem taller. His face was lean, too. All angles and straight lines. His chin was sharp, and his nose sharper still. His hair was carelessly tossed over his forehead; it looked as though he just stepped out of the shower. He gave the affect of resigned severity, a thing hiding behind a carefully crafted mask of harsh edges.

The only oddity was his eyes. Indescribably deep and blue, like a woman's. It was a little off putting. But they were sunken, dark, and wreathed by heavy circles. He looked like he hadn't slept in years.

"Doctor?"

Mana blinked.

"Oh, no, no thank you, Ikari-san."

He shivered.

"Pl-please, if you don't mind, please call me Shinji."

"Okay, Shinji-san. The, ah… the guards told you about me, right?" She sat on the long couch. He took a post opposite her, on a stiff wooden chair. Mana placed her tote bag on the coffee table between them, hoping the proximity gave her an easy intimacy.

"Yes," he said. "They're really very nice to me, you know. You… you might not think it, I mean, after all, they're guarding me, but they're nice to me. I don't mind."

Mana nodded eagerly. She perked her ears up, and caught what was playing softly since she had arrived. While by no means a classical buff, she knew a few popular tunes. Ode to Joy. She recalled one of the files she read on him stated he always had it playing. She didn't pretend to know why.

"That's a beautiful song," she said carefully. "Beethoven, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Beethoven's ninth symphony, the fourth movement, 'presto.' It's…" His eyes wandered off. "It's… important."

"I have to confess, I prefer pop," she admitted. She was spending more time with him, letting himself feel comfortable, allowing him to get ready for the real questions, and she wasn't entirely sure why. It was definitely due in part to the previous files on him, how skittish he was around new people. But beyond that she wanted to talk with him, see him, discover how he acted free of interrogation and intimidation. She wished she could conduct the meeting in another, nicer location. Someplace causal, comforting.

Mana frowned at herself. She glanced down at the length of her skirt, and how much thigh it showed him. Even her blouse was pulled tight, and her cleavage was pushed up to meet his eyes. She wasn't in the habit of parading herself around like this for information, but the entire morning was a fog to her. She knew somewhere, in some capacity, she'd made the decision to dress like this, to try and attract him, to let lust cloud his judgment and carry his tongue to her desired destination. She tried not to think about it.

Even so, she sat straight in her seat, letting her hands fall on her legs, holding her shoulders back. She wondered if wearing the pushup bra was a conscious choice or not.

"Oh, I enjoy pop, too," Shinji said, not wanting to seem snobbish. "But, well, classical is easier to get a hold of nowadays." His eyes never left her face. "So, shall we begin? I'm sure you didn't travel all this way just to speak to me about music."

"You're right, Shinji-san." Mana sighed. "Um, I'm not sure how to go about this…"

_What are you doing?_ She screamed at herself.

"Please, just say what you'd like to talk about."

"Alright… Shinji-san, may we talk about your past?"

"Of course. That's what everyone comes to talk about."

"If you don't want to…"

"What would you like to know? Could you be a little more specific?"

"Sorry, I was a little vague. Ah, did…" Mana stopped. Why was she so nervous? Seeing Asuka hadn't affected her like this. Granted, it was a bit of a thrill, at least in the beginning, but reality quickly crushed her ideals. But Shinji… he held the truth. He was the truth.

"… are you okay?"

"Yes… yes. Excuse me. Would you tell me about…" Again she paused. She only had one shot at gaining his trust, at learning his secrets. One shot. "Shinji-san, what is your fondest memory of living in Tokyo-3?"

He didn't seem surprised at the question. Damn. She was hoping that her attempt at kindness would catch him off guard. Instead, he seemed to be expecting it, waiting for it.

"I honestly don't have very many happy memories." Shinji closed his eyes. He sighed softly. "My happiest memory… was just a moment. During one of the battles, I saw… I thought I saw Ayanami die…" He opened his eyes. "Later, Misato-san told me she was alive. That instant, when I heard she was still alive… that was the happiest I'd ever been."

The way he spoke… even about such a tender issue… it was like he was disinterested with everything around him. Disconnected. It worried her. He was talking about one of his friends nearly dying, and he acted like it was a discussion on tax codes. Mana frowned. She decided to try and bring out a genuine reaction.

"Ayanami Rei," Mana said, wishing she knew more about her. "Did you love her?"

Again, he seemed completely unfazed by her words.

"I don't know." Shinji looked away. "I don't really know. It's been so long since we…" He paused. For a long time. "It's still hard to talk about her so freely. She suffered greatly, perhaps the most out of all of us."

Again, the strange disconnect.

"So… you cared for her?"

"Yes. I didn't know her very well. I don't think anyone did, but…" He sighed again, longer this time. "I never knew her as well as I should have." His hand brushed his chin, and he blinked, feeling a small patch of stubble. His nails raked over the hairs. Soon they began digging, trying to clean his face. "What else would you like to know?"

"Um… well… you lived with Katsuragi-san and…" She hesitated to mention her. "… Soryu-san, right? What were they like?"

"Misato-san and Asuka? Oh, they were… nice. We all lived together. It was… odd at first. I'd never lived with young women before, and they liked to tease me… but it was okay."

He stopped as a particularly strong passage of Ode to Joy came on. His brow beetled.

"Sometimes… Asuka would pick on me, but I suppose I deserved it," he said. "I mean, now I know she was only looking out for me. She never was one to hold back… except with… Kaji-san." He paused. "Is Asuka… is she alright? It's been a long time since I saw her…"

"She's… okay. Don't worry."

"Good," Shinji said very softly, like a prayer.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Mana asked. It was a tactless, blunt question. She knew, and she asked anyways.

"Years ago. Before the military found us. I've lost track of when it was exactly." He went quiet for a time, staring at the floor. "The last thing she said to me was, 'I hate you'."

Mana quirked an eyebrow. She thought back to her interview with the redhead; it seemed that she was terrified of saying anything negative about Shinji.

And yet again, here he was speaking about someone he had obviously been very close to, and her professed hatred hit him no heavier than a light breeze.

"Why did she say that?" Mana asked.

"… there was an Angel," he said carefully, "and it… did something terrible to her. It attacked her mind… did things to her. Made her relive horrific events. I don't think she ever truly recovered. She was always different after that." His eyes drooped in sympathy. "None of the Angels were good. That's why we fought them."

"Why did you fight, Shinji-san?" Mana asked.

"Because they told me to."

"Were you told what would happen if you didn't fight?"

"Not right away," Shinji said. "At first, they said Ayanami would have to fight if I didn't. She was hurt, badly, so I had to. They later told me if I didn't, if I failed, humanity would be eradicated. Misato-san… she told me she wasn't ready to die."

Mana bit her lip. Despite his tone, his eyes spoke of unhealed wounds.

"What kept you going?" she asked. "You went through so much, you all did, but you kept fighting. May I ask why?"

"I think… I think I had it easier than the others. Piloting was never the whole picture for me. I suppose that sounds strange, but I wasn't like Ayanami or Asuka. They… it was like they almost lived to pilot." He paused. "Sometimes I wonder why they weren't friends."

"You weren't all friends?"

"No. We talked sometimes, and had a few nice moments, but… they didn't like each other."

"Why?" Mana asked.

"Well… they were so focused and committed to the Evas. Asuka felt it was like a badge of honor. Ayanami… she… it was like she only had the Eva." He fell quiet. "They were alike, in many ways. But… I don't know. Asuka always competed, and Ayanami was indifferent to most people. They didn't get along."

His tone announced it was time for a new topic. Mana obliged.

"Shinji-san, could you tell me about NERV? The people who worked there?"

"I didn't know them that well. We didn't really talk. Kaji-san and Ritsuko-san talked to me occasionally. But usually, it was simply an indirect way of telling me to pilot." He glanced away. "I can't blame them, not really. After all, they were all depending on us. They didn't want to die. They had no choice but to depend on us."

"Didn't you resent them for that?"

"Not at the time. Back then I didn't know any better. I thought they were trying to be nice to me. I was a little naïve."

"Shinji-san, how much did you know about the Evangelions?"

"Only enough to fight. The pilots were at the short end of the food chain. The less we knew, the better. After all, we were children."

"How much do you know about the Evangelions now?"

"About as much as you do, I'd imagine." Seeing her startled face, he continued. "Well, I don't want to seem rude, but you are in the military, correct? I'm certain you know a little about them. I don't imagine they'd send you to me if you didn't."

Mana blinked. The reports had spoken of his intelligence, but had been relatively quiet on his wit. How on earth had he kept his mind together so well when the others were in the grips of madness and depression?

"I'll be blunt," she said. "Would you tell me about your father?"

"He isn't coming back," Shinji said.

"What? Why do you say that?"

"I… don't really know. Just a feeling." Shinji ran slim fingers through his short hair. "I don't think he'd be welcomed back, anyway. Or would you keep him locked away in a house just like the rest of us?"

"I… don't know what we'd do if he returned. When was the last time you saw him?"

Before I bit him in half.

"In person?" He glanced past her. "It was after Touji was injured. I tried to confront him, and failed. I… thought I hated him. But it wasn't… it wasn't like I wanted him to die or anything." He pursed his lips. "He told me to leave, and I did."

"But…" Mana swallowed. "You came back, right?"

"Of course. Kaji-san told me to. I was never very good at arguing with authority figures, even when it was clear they were only using me to pilot. I saw my father once more, when I demanded to pilot again." Shinji frowned. "He let me, of course. I fought again, and the end was held off for a little while longer."

"You seem to hold some anger at Kaji-san. Do you hate him for using you?"

"No. No, I never hated him. I suppose… I suppose I wanted to be like him. Looking back now, I realize how foolish that is. I don't believe he was a very admirable person. I am not angry at him."

There was no conviction, no emotion behind any of his words. It continued to trouble her. Mana considered asking him who he was angry at, but she couldn't imagine any answer he'd give her would satisfy her.

"So," she asked, "no one ever told you about the Evangelions?"

"Someone told me." He stared at her. "I wonder who told you."

"Like you said, I'm in the military." Mana cursed. All the avenues leading to the Impact had been blocked off. He seemed like he was testing her, trying to extract some piece of information she couldn't see. "Shinji-san…" She paused. "Shinji-san, I truly appreciate how… open you've been with me…"

"I've learned it's pointless to butt heads with people who question me."

"But… you don't enjoy it, do you?"

"It's better than what the military wanted to do to me in the beginning. They weren't as… understanding as they are now."

Mana swallowed.

"What would you do if you weren't… well..."

"If I weren't who I am?" Shinji paused to consider the question. "I think, perhaps, it's best this way. The way things are. I honestly never thought about my future. That's why it never mattered to me when I died."

"But…" Mana quirked a smile. "Of course it mattered when you die. I mean, if you had never been born—"

"Then someone else would have taken my place." He showed no remorse for interrupting her. "My importance has been greatly overrated."

"I doubt that," she said, and meant it.

He opened his mouth to respond, possibly disagree with her, but he stopped.

"Why… why are you being so nice to me?" Shinji said, very softly.

"… I think you had a very difficult life, Shinji-san. I won't lie to you. I'm here to learn from you, but I don't think you should be accosted like a criminal."

"Learn from me?" he asked. "What on earth could I ever teach you? I can't teach anyone anything."

"Shinji-san, there is a lot you could teach me. I… it's true I know a little about the Evangelions, and NERV, and the Angels, but it's all based on reports and second-hand accounts. I… I want to know what you know."

He was silent for a time, pondering her words.

"No, you don't. You don't want to know what I know. I do not want to offend you, but I doubt you could handle what I know." Shinji shut his eyes. "I know I didn't handle it."

Mana bit her lip. She couldn't very well bring up his insanity and suicide attempt. Slit wrists weren't exactly a conversation starter.

_Is it really so terrible?_ she thought. When he spoke again to her, she felt like he read her mind.

"The Evangelions were… perverse… things," Shinji said. "They never should have been made."

"What?" Mana gaped at him. "How can you say that? If they were never made everyone would have been killed when the first Angel attacked."

"They merely delayed the inevitable. Held it off for a future date. They were a pitiful stopgap against a tidal wave." He closed his eyes. "They never should have been made."

"Because… they were 'perverse,' you said?" Mana asked after a moment, her eyebrows scrunched together, trying to understand. "What did they pervert?"

"Everything that touched them. It was almost like a curse. It almost made me believe in divine intervention. Man played God, and God got angry. That's the best I can do at an explanation."

"Technology of God," she intoned, mostly to herself. "Creating something from nothing."

"Not from nothing. Never from nothing."

Mana blinked slowly. There was a definite undercurrent in his voice. Something akin to anger. Regret? She couldn't place it.

"What do you mean?" she asked evenly.

"This world is about cost. Everything has a price. There is no such thing as something for nothing. Everything costs something. The clothes we wear, the air we breathe, the minutes we waste living. It all costs something, whether we can see it or not. The price is always there."

"And the Evangelion's price…?"

"Was too high to count."

She noticed the same tinge to his voice, and decided to pursue it. Anything to garner a further reaction from him.

"What did it cost you?" Mana asked.

"For me? Nothing of any real importance. I never had much, never was much to begin with. But for everyone else… it was a cancer that ate them alive. I cannot count how many lost their grasp on reality, or their pride, or their hope, their happiness, their purpose, their lives…"

"It may sound cold,"Mana said, "but NERV and everyone involved were fighting for the sake of the whole species. Their individual sacrifices are countered by the good they did. Mankind owes all of you an immense thanks."

"Because the world we saved for you is such a utopia," Shinji said flatly.

Shefrowned, beginningto feel a tickling anger for this man.

"Or," she said quietly, "do you think NERV should be punished? Did they not always act in the interest of aiding humanity? Do they deserve the wrath of those who returned? Did they do something to merit it?"

"We did everything possible to deserve it. Only we deserved to return to this life."

"Could you elaborate? What did you do that was so horrible?"

Shinji's eyes left her face and traveled to his feet. He traced their contours, their outlines, their physical existence. He went over them again and again, as if reaffirming the reality of their being. He did not speak.

"Why?" Mana asked him, getting frustrated. "Why won't you tell anyone what happened? We're not stupid, or irresponsible. Whatever you tell us will only help. You don't have to be afraid." Satisfied with her lie, she sat back. Finally, peering at him, shaking her head, she asked: "What do you hope to gain by staying silent?"

"What do you hope to gain by knowing?"

"The truth," she answered immediately.

"Well, at least you're honest. Thank you for that." Shinji looked up at her. "But that isn't a good enough reason."

"Then what? You've talked to countless doctors and soldiers, and you've refused all of them. Aren't we good enough? Do you think you're better than the rest of us?" Mana regretted that as soon as she said it.

"The rest of us?" He nodded. "So you're just like the others. You see me as not quite human. After what I've seen and done… I suppose you're right. I am not human. I'm something different. Not more… or better, no. Less. I'm less than a human."

"Shinji-san, I'm sorry. I—"

"Don't apologize. You're correct. I gave up something fundamental during Third Impact."

Mana felt a rush. She was wearing him down.

"And what was that?" she asked immediately.

He smiled at her, gently, serenely.

"My sanity."

She froze. She blinked.

"What?" she whispered.

"To see Third Impact, I had to abandon my sanity. It was holding me back."

Mana felt the room tilt crazily. She grasped the couch in her hands. She felt like she'd tip over under a whisper's breath. Shinji continued to speak.

"And now, recently, I was forced to regain it. You see, now, right now, I am in hell. Not the hell others spoke of, upon returning. No. I am in a true hell, and I can never escape."

* * *

Mana sat in her office. Her light was the only one on. The rest of the work crew, even the janitors had left for the night. She was hunched at her desk, watching recorded interviews of Ikari Shinji taken years ago, before the suicide attempt. It was painfully obvious the boy was crazy. He was questioned like a criminal, berated and beaten. Whenever he wasn't weeping, he was shouting; strange, incoherent babblings about murdering his father, Katsuragi, Ayanami, and any other name that floated through his mind.

Mana cued it to one such breakdown, as he began tearing at his mouth, nearly ripping his own tongue out.

"_No! I didn't kill my father! I didn't eat him alive!"_

He had to be restrained.

She found another, one where he had nearly succeeded in popping his left eye out of its socket using only his fingers.

"_I killed her! I killed her so many times! She was smiling and I killed her!"_

Again, he was restrained.

Mana stumbled across one more, wiping the sweat from her face.

Shinji had shattered his right hand by slamming it against the floor. It hung off his wrist at a foul angle, bones poking up out of the skin like teeth.

"_I murder everyone who says they love me!"_

She shut the monitor off. She glanced at her garbage basket, finding it to be a tempting receptacle for the contents of her stomach. After a concentrated effort, she pushed back the bile, banishing the images to the dark corners of her mind. What the hell was going on here?

What in the world happened to him? Aoba's account, even portions of Soryu's clearly depicted a boy suffering from severe depression, but not in the throws of madness. Had being questioned so brutally finally made him snap? Had the separation from Soryu taken its toll? Had the state of things simply caught up with him after running away for so long? What? What the hell happened to him to make him break so completely?

Mana frowned. What had the military done to him when they found him? All of the records she had access to were missing a period of little more than six months, between the capture of the pilots to the taped interviews. Granted, the timeline was far from perfect, and gaps in any information were a fact of life nowadays, but she was convinced something had happened to him. Something had to have happened.

But what?

For that matter, why was the UN pussyfooting around Ikari and the others? Why were they wasting time and money on doctors, when they could just as easily torture the truth from them? What were they trying to accomplish?

Mana hung her head in defeat. Her first meeting with Shinji had failed. Her research into his past only filled her with more questions. At this rate she'd be taken off the assignment. Soon she'd be back at Taper's beck and call, subject to more anonymous survivor tales, waiting for the day when she snapped too.

"Damn it…"

She was so close to the truth, she was sitting right across from it this afternoon! And nothing she'd said, nothing she'd gotten from him had helped in the least. Who was this man? How had be regained his mind?

What on earth was Ikari Shinji?

"Damn it," she said again, in the dark. She shut her eyes and turned her computer off. She waited, listening to the machine whir and click, shutting down. She waited in the dark silence, and swore again.

* * *

Author notes: I can't believe no one has called me on the most glaring problem with this story: Mana is a terrible interviewer. I thought it was kind of obvious.

I wanted to make Shinji purposefully disappointing, both to Mana and the reader. This isn't going to be my usual idealized Shin-chan here.

I remember reading somewhere that Shinji's height during the series was four eleven. So, yeah, five six is pretty damn tall.

About Asuka. A few of you brought up a very good point: why would she be allowed to keep her child? Yeah, Ryouji was mostly for shock value, but worry not. I would have thought by now people knew what to expect from me. It takes me a long while to set things up. Asuka will only make one more appearance in this story, probably in the last chapter. And by then everything will be explained. I promise. Patience is a virtue after all.

Second point: Nearly everyone called me on Asuka being a "slut." I disagree. She's regressed a lot in this fic, and is looking for acceptance in any way she can. And guess what? _Guys_ are sluts. They'll take sex in whatever form is readily available to them. To any female reading this story, don't be fooled! All men are pervy! No matter how innocent, or gentle, or sincere they seem, beneath that caring exterior lurks the dark depraved heart of a hentai. As the author of Witness, I know what I'm talking about. Guys, don't deny it.


	6. Chapter 6

I Knew Him When chapter 6

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: I don't own Eva. Do you?

* * *

The next time was going to be different.

That was the decision Mana arrived at after three more visits with Ikari Shinji, each one ending invariably with more questions than answers. He spoke to her with icy intellect and calm detachment. Any genuine emotion seemed to be beaten out of him long ago. He was precise, articulate and usually forthcoming, but he was removed from his words. It was not merely distracting, it was troubling.

Here was a man besieged by torments and hardships. In her experience dealing with survivors, Mana found they were most likely angry, or depressed, or afraid. A lack of easily identifiable emotion was disconcerting. She didn't like it at all.

Mana kept prodding him with deeper and more personal questions, hoping for an outburst, or even a breakdown. The most he gave her was slight regret, or in rare cases, a very focused self disgust.

But she wanted it to end. She wanted answers beyond his home life and personal preferences. She wanted the truth.

It was an overcast Thursday when she visited Shinji again. She had the road from the base to his safe house nearly memorized, right down to the bumps and cracks in the asphalt. Trees whipped past her windows, flashes of blurry greens at the corners of her vision. The radio was playing, but she didn't hear it.

She arrived at the compound. She greeted him, and he greeted her, and it was colored by his usual detachment. Almost professional. She also noticed something else: he always seemed tired. Like all he could manage at night was a fitful ten minutes. His eyes were sunken and dark, his face pale and drawn. His hair was always in variable states of disarray, and his manner was slightly slow and halting. He moved like a man condemned.

They sat in the living room, like always, he on the chair, she on the couch. It was an old interviewer trick she learned ages ago. To face your quarry, forcing eye contact, making visible any physical tells. It almost necessitated speech, the silences being too great, too awkward.

But Shinji had apparently read the same books she had. He was almost comfortable in silence, and had to be dragged into conversation. As they spent more and more time together, he offered information less and less freely. If she asked a question, she'd get an answer. But if she waited for him to pick up the slack, she'd get nothing but silence. Mana almost knew Beethoven's ninth by heart now. She honestly didn't care for it.

She also found that he responded better with longer lead-ins. If he knew exactly what she wanted, his answers would be sharper and more precise. Mana discovered it as a minor form of manipulation. Longer questions would produce concise responses, but shorter queries let him expand upon her original intent. Today she decided to start long.

"There has been talk recently," Mana said, "about holding the survivors from NERV responsible for the Impact and the resulting difficulties the human race has endured. Most of the chatter is from the Americans, who've had a harder time rebuilding their infrastructure than any other nation. Their lack of exports and serviceable goods has finally caught up with them. They're angry and want to shake their sabers a bit. The UN's giving them time to air their grievances, but in the end everyone knows it will amount to nothing.

"The higher-ups, both within NERV and the Japanese government, have been tried and sent to prison. Despite the withholding of a death penalty, it seemed to pacify the masses. But the question still remains about how NERV accrued such power to begin with. Even before the construction of the Evangelions, and how its proven strength gave NERV incredible political and economic authority, the issue of who was backing it from the beginning remains unanswered.

"The Americans are on a witch hunt. The seemingly bottomless pit of money and influence that helped form NERV has vanished, or is in hiding. And they want to know where it is, or failing that, punish this country further for the loss. As you can imagine, public sentiment is growing steadily worse for the government and the UN. People are feeling angry, betrayed, lost and used. I can't imagine this having a positive outcome."

"Do you have a question for me?" Shinji asked.

"Yes. I'd like to know where you think the issue of personal responsibility lies for the remaining NERV personnel."

Shinji was silent for a long time. He seemed to be seriously considering her words.

"The most penance I can do for my failings," he finally said, "is to sit in this house, alone, until I die, or until the military, or the UN, or whoever is in power decides to kill me. That is all I can do. As for everyone else from NERV, I cannot say. Regardless of what the world powers say, the decision of responsibility should be left to the individual. Not everyone within the organization knew what exactly their commanding officers were doing. Secrecy was an epidemic. I feel not everyone should be punished for the faults of a few."

"Do you feel you should be punished?"

"Yes." The response was automatic, instinctual.

"Why?" she asked him.

"Because I failed." His tone was tired. Like a school child reciting a play's lines for the millionth time.

"How?"

"I do not even know where to begin."

"Could you try?" Mana asked.

Shinji took a breath. Like he was savoring the air. Tasting it. He breathed out through his teeth, a thin hollow sound.

"Misato-san once told me she wasn't ready to die. She fought so hard because she had important things to do before her life ended. I still do not know if she accomplished everything she set out to do. I failed her because she died saving my life.

"Asuka… the Asuka I used to know died as I sat by and watched. I yelled, I screamed, I pleaded, but the fact remains I did nothing. I failed her by being the Shinji she always accused me of being. Weak and pathetic and spineless and stupid and cowardly.

"Touji lost what little future was left to him because again, all I did was sit and watch in mute fascination as he was mauled and ruined.

"Kensuke and Horaki-san lost their friend because I failed Touji. His sister, too, who I severely injured during my first sortie, had to cope with her big brother's mutilation, as well as her own.

"Ritsuko-san had to deal with my family's sins, just as her mother did, and she was broken by the weight. She fell apart right in front of my eyes. All I did was watch.

"Everyone else at NERV, everyone who died in the attack, I failed them because I chose not to act. I was obsessed with myself and my pain and never looked up once to see anyone else. They died defending my cowardice.

"And Ayanami… she once told me she had nothing. Nothing beyond the Eva, which is somehow less than nothing. She told me that, and I could think of nothing to do for her. I still can't think of anything. She died… she died because I let her. For nothing."

He glanced away. His eyes ran over the edge of a window frame.

"And my father. I could never be who he wanted me to be. I failed him every day of my life. I still do. And nothing will ever change that."

Mana swallowed hard. She honestly wasn't expecting all that. She briefly considered countering him, point by point, but she didn't know enough about the personal relationships he spoke of. That, and the way he had delivered it all was like he was reciting the phone book or a school anthem. Like it was rote memorization. He had been living with this crushing guilt for years, alone, without any differing opinion. Mana could not even begin to grasp how damaged his mind was, to say nothing of his self esteem and ego. She suddenly wasn't surprised he tried to kill himself.

"Well," she said awkwardly, "no one can say they never failed someone or something." Mana cursed. She was amazingly inept at soothing other people. "I mean, everyone you stated wasn't exactly perfect."

Shinji peered at her. What was she doing? Impugning his dead relatives and closest friends? Was she trying to make him feel even worse?

She was trying to get a genuine reaction out of him.

"No one is perfect," Shinji stated. "But my failings make them approach it."

"You aren't angry at any of them?" she asked, recovering quickly. "NERV and the government condoned using children to fight. The sins they committed were under the guise of mankind's benefit."

"The situation demanded it. Those in power weren't willing to die." He looked at her oddly, almost like he was seeing her for the first time. "And what do you think? About those in power?" he asked. "About the UN?"

"I think the UN should keep their damn noses out of our business."

His eyebrows darted up. He wasn't expecting such a negative tone regarding her employers. He had encountered bitterness before from the doctors who interviewed him, but it was always restrained, kept under the surface. It was locked away under heavy guard. Lacking eyes to the outside world, Shinji had become rather adept at reading current events through the people he saw. Their mannerisms, choice of words, even body language all gave their hearts away.

He was aware of the harsh separation between the people of the nation, and the foreign controlled government. It was almost fashionable to despise the ruling party and those who worked under their thumb. Even native citizens who were employed by the UN were a source of impotent anger. It was expected.

But Shinji had never encountered someone who was so willing to denounce the government before. Certainly not from the people he spoke with. But as quickly as his interest was piqued, it was smothered. He awaited the next question.

"Sorry," Mana said, scrunching her shoulders up in shame. She breathed out, and straightened. "Do you believe in God?"

Shinji mentally groaned. From personal responsibility to divine responsibility. Terrific.

"Not in the way you mean," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"The ideal of an all powerful man or being in the clouds taking an interest in our everyday activities is something I cannot believe in."

"Why not?"

Shinji sighed, running a hand through his hair. He used his palm to push his bangs away from his forehead, but they fell right back into place as soon as he removed his hand.

"Do you honestly believe God is an old man in a white robe, sitting on a throne in the clouds, directing and judging human affairs? That thought terrifies me. Because people use that image all the time to project their own prejudices and hates onto a divine being, to justify their actions. By making their personal beliefs universal. It's disgusting."

He paused.

"Whatever is out there is beyond human comprehension. It cannot be fathomed, or contained in human language. The most we can hope for is brief glimpses, and hope it doesn't completely shatter our minds. Human minds are inherently weak, and being confronted with existence after death breaks them apart. It cannot be captured with our current mental capacity."

"So you believe in life after death?" Mana asked.

"… I believe we exist in one form or another, yes. But I couldn't begin to hope to describe it." He looked away. "The fact is, none of us know for certain. All there is is baseless postulating."

Mana pretended to make a note. She had skirted the issue of theology for awhile with him. Mostly because Mana herself had little use for organized religion. A part of her couldn't see the God of the Jews or the Christians or the Muslims being benevolent anyway, not after the Impact. She would still observe popular holidays, mostly out of practice and societal mores, but the blind belief was absent.

She was spiritual in the abstract sense. She believed in right and wrong, good and bad, but it was a human choice in the end. Whether you woke up in the morning and went to work, or if you woke up in the morning, went to work, and killed everyone there with a shotgun. Humans were responsible for their actions.

And Shinji, with his trapped intellect, appeared to have reached a similar theory.

"So," she said, "you don't believe in divine judgment?"

"… no. The only judgment that affects us is human judgment."

"But you believe in sins?"

"I believe human societies instinctively create right and wrong," Shinji said, "based on politics, economy, warfare and culture. I believe there is an inherent 'divinity' in all of them. They all have merit for their respective societies."

"Do you believe in retribution? In punishing those who have sinned?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel you're being punished right now?"

"Yes."

"Well… don't you feel you've been punished enough?"

Shinji did not answer.

"What is the worst crime you can think of?" she asked after a moment. Mana already knew what he'd say and was quietly proud of herself for fencing him in like this.

"Murder," Shinji said.

Mana tried not to smile.

Katsuragi Misato and Ayanami Rei. Most of the informed personnel Mana had spoken to all told the same story: they were both dead, never to return. And from Shinji's suicide note, it was obvious he took them personally. Left with that deduction, the last name on the list, this Kaworu, must have been a loss he took as his fault as well.

Mana had gone over the records of the Angel battles with a slight obsession. She knew them all almost by heart, down to time, date and place. From the reports made available to her, she had access to transcripts of dialogue and electronic data entry, as well as personal logs and post battle analysis.

And she knew that during the entirety of the Angel attacks, Tokyo-3 suffered three hundred and seventeen military personnel deaths, seventy two NERV personnel deaths, and fifty six civilian deaths. All of which were directly or indirectly connected to the deployment of the Evangelion units. Of course, how much of this the pilots knew was debatable. Somehow, Mana didn't see NERV telling a bunch of teenagers about the fatalities accrued by their actions.

But Shinji freely took responsibility for many people's deaths. Meaning they must have been close, this Kaworu and Shinji. Maybe someone caught in a battle? A casualty he took personally? Despite his claims, despite the surviving footage from the war, Mana could not believe he had anything to do with anyone's death. Not purposefully. It just didn't fit the profile.

"Murder is a terrible crime," Mana said. "Do you think humans, with or without a divine presence, instinctively seek out crime and punish it?"

"If it fits the culture."

"Do you mean, since the victim can't get justice, those who are still alive must exact it?"

"I suppose," Shinji said slowly, suddenly not liking where she was going.

"Do you feel the living have an obligation to punish? That those who are responsible for causing death deserve punishment?"

"It hardly matters what I think," he said softly.

"But surely, since you had so many lives in your hands so many times, it does matter. Certainly, you must have realized by now the number of people who relied on you to save them, and that not all of them survived. Even though it was beyond your control, it is the truth. Do you still feel you should be punished for them?"

Shinji did not answer, but she could guess.

"I want to ask you who Kaworu was," Mana said.

He made no movement or outward reaction. His face remained long and placid, his eyes dull and sunken. He didn't even look annoyed or surprised or saddened.

Again, here she was speaking about someone who was obviously quite important to him, and Shinji didn't bat an eyelash. He didn't get irritated, or short, or mad. It bothered her, that he never got angry. Everyone got pissed sometimes; it was human nature. Why was he any different? Was he so afraid of showing a little anger?

Shinji stared at her for a long moment, then rose from his seat.

"It's late," he said. "I didn't get much sleep last night. If you don't mind, could we call it a day?" He didn't wait for an answer.

Mana got up and trailed after him. He was quick. Faster than she thought. He was already at the door opening it when she reached the front hall. He obediently stood to the side, allowing her safe passage.

"Shinji-san, if you don't want to talk about him, we can discuss other things—"

"There is nothing else of importance left to say," he said. "This is where it always ends. With everyone I speak to. It isn't your fault, that's just the way it is."

"But… I'm sorry. We don't have to end things like—"

Shinji turned to her. His eyes were empty. His mouth moved slowly, carefully forming around each word he spoke.

"He was someone I murdered."

* * *

Someone was knocking on his door.

Aoba snorted and put down the music catalogue he was thumbing through, and rose from his chair. No meetings were scheduled for today, and as silly as it sounded, he was annoyed with the interruption. Not that his days were filled with excitement and stimulation anymore, but when something cut into his endless routine of daily motions, he was irritated. Hell, he was irritated when he knew someone was coming by. It only meant one thing: being pumped for information.

He supposed out of all the others under the military's lock and key, he was lucky. He rated a private compound, free of the cramped cells most of his colleagues were going stale in. And he had always 

been very pragmatic about his interactions with others. He'd enjoy them while they lasted, but he wouldn't hopelessly yearn for them when he was alone. Solitude certainly wasn't high on his short list of vices, but he suspected he had an easier time of it. He never was much of a people person. He liked peace and quiet. Being associated with NERV and so many battles, he wasn't surprised.

There was a mirror in the front hall beside the door, a pathetic attempt at making this prison feel like a home. He glanced at himself and stopped. He had always been quietly vain regarding his looks: he took great care shaving, used special hair products, and tried to work out at least once a week.

But the reflection that met him was old, tired and worn. His eyes were dark slits over grey wrinkles, his mouth sagged downwards, his hair was thin and brittle. He looked like a completely different man than the one he remembered.

He shook his head, and opened the door. He tried to look hospitable.

"Oh," Aoba said, his smile vanishing. "It's you."

Mana smiled awkwardly in his door.

"Yeah, um, I hope I'm not bothering you too much, Aoba-san."

"No problem," he sighed, ushering her inside. "Not like I have anything better to do with my time nowadays." He stalked off to his small living room, guiding her down the narrow front hall. "What is this trip about?"

Mana waited until they were seated, and she had his full attention.

"Do you know anyone named Kaworu?" she asked.

The suddenness of the query, without any preamble served her well. Aoba was unable to cover his shock. He immediately sobered, and adopted a sour look. She was well aware it was an underhanded tactic, but the military didn't train her in etiquette and social graces.

Aoba snorted angrily.

"And where did you hear about him?" he asked.

"From a reliable source."

"But you don't know who he is?"

"Not at the moment, no." She let the pause that followed be taken for what it was meant to be: a silent command for him to tell her.

"If I may make a suggestion…"

"Of course. Please do."

"Don't talk to Shinji-kun about Kaworu. It'll only hurt him." Aoba glanced at her. "Shit. You already did, didn't you?"

"Well… yes. He said… he said Kaworu was someone he killed."

"Someone he killed," Aoba repeated, smiling sadly. "Someone he killed."

"Who was he?"

"Someone he killed."

"Funny," Mana said. "But this isn't a joke. I want to know." She realized Shinji was apt to take personal responsibility for things outside his control. Based on that, she honestly didn't believe he ever willfully murdered anyone.

"So you want to know," Aoba said. He sounded like it was an old joke. "Why?"

"I believe," she said carefully, "that it would help me gain a better understanding of him, and in turn, help him."

Aoba openly scoffed at her.

"Do you honestly believe you're the first woman to claim she has Shinji's best interests at heart? That you care more about him than some job?" He shook his head. "Believe me, I've seen your kind before, lady. You're last in a long line. I've lost count of all the doctors before you who said they only wanted to help him. So let's cut the bullshit, doc. You're on an expensive fishing trip. The military can front some nice looking bait, but in the end, that's all you are. Bait."

Mana felt a surge of anger. How dare he.

"I'm a doctor and investigator for the military, yes," she said. "But don't think for one minute I'm doing this solely for their benefit. But I have a job to do. And that means I have to ask questions that some people don't want to answer. And it is of the utmost importance we get those answers."

"Really?" Aoba said. "Those answers, as you put it, nearly destroyed the world twelve years ago. Those answers need to be buried and never spoken of again. Because if you do get those answers, some fool will try to put them to use, and next time nothing will be left after the smoke clears."

"I have a personal stake in this," she whispered harshly. "I may have been ordered to investigate him, but I'm doing this because I want to. I accepted this, even though there are dozens of doctors lined up to do what I'm doing. I chose this."

"And? So what? Every one of you gives the same old song and dance. That he's a victim, that he doesn't deserve this, that you're only trying to help. If the military really wanted to help him they'd send Shinji-kun to a real doctor. Not any kid with a fake degree."

_Fuck you._

"Fuck you." Mana bristled. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She snorted her fury out, and blinked back any more words. Aoba watched her with nothing but patience. "Forgive me," she said. "I didn't mean to swear at you."

"I'm pretty sure you did. Don't worry. I've heard a lot worse, and from more important people than you." He shook his head and sighed. "I don't know why you even bothered to come to me. You know I'm not the most talkative guy you have at your disposal."

"It was a courtesy," she said. "I'd rather not pester all of the lower level personnel."

"How nice of you. But what you really mean to say is that they don't know as much as I do, right?"

Mana was suddenly forced to realize exactly how long this man had been under confinement, badgered by questions between agonizing stretches of loneliness. She supposed he really had seen her kind before.

"I… do not mean any disrespect," she said.

"Yeah," Aoba said. His tone was long and tired. "Yeah. And while I can't say I like you, or the people who sent you, I can't say I disrespect you either. This is your job. Just like mine was to facilitate NERV. Just like Shinji's was to carry out the grudge of pathetic weak men. I think… I know I'm not as green as I was back then, blindly following orders. And Shinji… Shinji isn't as naïve as he used to be. He can't be."

"Naïve is definitely not the word he conjures up for me."

"I'll bet." He looked at her carefully, searching for some unseen quality. "I can't even begin to imagine what he's like now. I can't imagine how he's coped with everything. If he's coped. But one thing I do know is how people react to him. I can't say you're breaking the mold, doc." Aoba shook his head. Almost in pity. "Everyone either thinks of him as a devil or a saint."

"And you?" Mana asked. "What do you think of him?"

"I don't have to guess like everyone else. I knew him. He isn't either. He's just a kid."

* * *

"Dr. Kirishima," Shinji said, opening his front door to find a rain-soaked Mana. "Did you forget something?"

"Shinji-san…" She swallowed, shaking the rain from her hair. "Could… can we talk for a little?"

His entire face seemed to sag.

"If you really want to," he said.

He let her in. She hung her dripping coat on the empty rack by the door and slipped her shoes off. He hadn't waited for her, and she walked alone into his living room, finding him at his post in the stiff wooden chair.

Mana stopped abruptly. She felt a chill. The house was silent. No Beethoven to fill the gaps in their dialogue. It filled her with an irrational terror. Abruptly, his words began repeating over and over in her mind.

Someone I murdered. Someone I murdered. Someone I murdered.

Despite that, she couldn't see the man before her as a killer. She didn't think he had it in him. She had spent her entire life around trained soldiers; she was fairly good at spotting that little spark in people, the resolve required to kill. Not in sport, but when your own life is on the line.

Soryu had it. She was sure of that. Even with her current condition, her confidence about combat was impressive. The redhead could probably tear through a few armed divisions without too much trouble.

But Shinji… he was never trained to kill. True, he faced life or death situations on a fairly regular basis, but those were against giant monsters in fantastic battles that shook the earth. It wasn't pointing a gun at another flesh and blood human being and having the discipline to pull the trigger to save yourself.

He was a civilian. He had a civilian's mind. Life was sacred. Life was worth saving, no matter what. The typical idealistic weakness of the masses. But Shinji had to have held it as truth.

And somehow, that made Mana pity him all the more. He didn't have the mental discipline of a soldier, or even the neurosis of a serial killer. He had nothing but the ingrained morals and ethics of a hypocritical culture of life, and it must have torn him up inside.

It made her decision easier to complete.

The rain continued to hammer against the windows and roof. A flash of lightning lit the room. Mana began to speak.

"When I was fourteen I was involved in a project called 'Trident'. It was a military operation designed in response to concerns about the power and finances the Evangelions gave NERV. I was already in the JSSDF then." She paused, watching his surprise. "The Trident was a war machine whose purpose was to combat both the Angels… and your Evas. It was, as far as pieces of hardware go, impressive. But compared to the power of the Evangelion units… it was a pop gun against a tank." Mana took a breath. "I was one of the pilots."

Shinji arched his eyebrows, but remained silent.

"But piloting wasn't my only… skill. The military devised a plan revolving around the Trident." Her eyes stared straight at him. "The JSSDF could never replicate the so-called AT field the Evas had. And as such, were at a distinct disadvantage against NERV. Understand that for years, billions of yen were spent researching and developing force field type technology. None of it ever panned out."

Shinji thought of Kaworu.

"So… the plan they came up with was for someone to infiltrate NERV and find out all they could. The military, as well as several countries all sent spies into NERV's many branches, for years, and all of them… well, all of them wound up dead."

Shinji thought of Kaji.

"So the military thought, 'Hey, why not send a spy, not through the official channels of NERV, but through… the pilots'."

Shinji thought of Kaworu again.

"A spy that would befriend one of the pilots. The most accessible one. You, Shinji-san, were targeted to be contacted."

"That does not surprise me," he said.

Mana bit her lip.

"You were chosen because… given your background, it was felt you were the easiest to… manipulate. That you'd be the easiest target." She waited for some sign of anger or displeasure and found none. She pushed forward. "The spy would get close to you and get into NERV, maybe even an Eva, and report back. About everything, including you and the other pilots, the hierarchy of NERV, everything. Then, depending on how things went, the JSSDF would keep the spy near you, kidnap you, or stage an attack."

During Mana's next pause, Shinji spoke.

"Did the military honestly believe it could stand up next to an Evangelion?"

"No. They knew it would be a one-sided battle. So they had insurance." She drew one final breath before taking the plunge. "Shinji-san, I was the spy they were going to send to you. I was supposed to… get close to you… intimate, even, and then… if a battle started… you wouldn't be able to fight. Because I was fighting against you."

The rain outside had not let up. The windows were mosaics. The lightning and thunder had left though, drifting on the winds to another locale. Mana idly hoped she remembered to roll her car windows up.

In his seat, Shinji sat. He stared at the table between them, through the glass top to the floor below. He watched her feet twist.

"You knew me very well," he said quietly. "I imagine I would have been quite smitten with you." He squeezed his right hand closed, staring at his fist. Somewhere, deep within the rain, he heard a severed head falling into a pool of LCL. "You were really so sure I wouldn't fight a friend?"

Mana licked her lips.

"We were counting on it."

"Yes," Shinji said after thinking a moment. "You would have been right, then."

"You were… a point of interest for us."

The rain continued to fall.

"Why didn't you go through with it?" he asked her.

"I… well, I think somehow NERV found out. It was all unofficial, but several key members of the Trident team were… murdered. No one ever found out who did it… or why. Facing… extermination… the military brass cancelled the whole thing off. Then… a few months later…"

"The Third Impact," Shinji finished.

"Yeah…"

He closed his eyes.

"Won't you get in trouble for telling me this? Not that it really matters now, but…"

"Not unless you tell on me," she said quickly.

"… I won't."

"Thanks."

Shinji looked out the window.

"It seems to have gotten worse." He stood. "Could I offer you anything?" He didn't wait for her response and walked into the kitchen. "I'm afraid I still can't offer much. They don't let me select my own groceries."

Mana stood and followed him. The entrance to the kitchen was partially obscured from her seat behind a bookcase. She entered and found Shinji at the stove, boiling water. The kitchen was spotless, the clean bordering on obsession. Or merely too much free time. Mana stayed under the archway, watching him.

"Aren't… you angry?" she asked.

"I have no reason to be," he sighed. "It is all in the past. There is nothing I can do to change it. Wishing for such things will result in nothing. All I can do is… let it go." He paused for a breath. "I… don't want to be angry anymore."

Mana ran the heel of her palm over her sweaty forehead. Unbidden, the thought of berserker rage wormed itself into her mind. She could definitely agree with the concept of an angry Ikari Shinji not being a good thing. But it continued to trouble her that he refused to get mad.

The water heated, painfully slow. Like he was trying to boil dry ice with a wet match. Shinji kept his eyes on the kettle, a small, cheap piece of metal, barely large enough for two full cups. There were scratches and stains on its hide, and a small dent on the spout's end. Shinji kept staring at it.

Mana watched him. His slim slip of a frame, trapped by the sterile white of the kitchen struck her as profoundly sad. He was imprisoned within a pale shell in a doomed world he blamed himself for.

"Do you ever get lonely?" she asked softly.

"Yes. Of course. I'm only human." He frowned quickly. "But it's something I've learned to deal with. Something I had to adapt to. Focusing on the negatives of my current situation won't amount to anything other than despair. It'll…"

"What?"

"… drive me crazy."

Her eyes darted to his wrists. They were both covered by long sleeves, buttoned tight.

"You said…" Mana started, "the first time we met… that you saw the Impact. That it drove you insane." Mana bit her lip. "How… you said you regained your sanity. How did you do it?"

"I don't really know," he said. There was no deception or evasion. "All I know is that I am alive right now. I suppose that was enough."

"What was it like? The Impact?"

"It's like a dream now. Every day it fades a little more. I have nothing now but vague flashes. They usually sneak up on me, and I'm never fully prepared for them. You'd think I'd be able to deal with it, given my youth." Shinji hurried on. "I imagine you must have had a very difficult childhood," he said. If he felt any awkwardness or unease at directly questioning her, he hid it. "I thought only NERV resorted to using children."

"I was trained," Mana said, "from a very early age. It was long, difficult and painful. They used children because of the success NERV had with adolescents. The JSSDF had failed with the Jet Alone project, and foreign funding dried up. The Trident was the military's last hope to combat the UN and NERV, the power they had."

"The JSSDF did an excellent job of attacking NERV," Shinji said flatly.

Mana blushed in shame.

"NERV was never equipped to repel human invaders," she stated. "I don't think they ever considered it."

"I doubt that," he said breezily. "I think they always knew it would come down to that." He kept his back to her. "Why did you stay in the military?"

"For a long time, it was just my way of life," she told him slowly. "But after… when I returned, with everything going on back then, I felt if I could do anything to help, I should."

Shinji leisurely turned around. He looked like she had just told him Santa Claus lived next door.

"Why did you stay?" he asked again.

She coughed nervously. Where was all this coming from?

"What do you mean, Shinji-san?"

"All of the Children were fourteen, and all were either tricked or forced into piloting. None of us did it because we wanted to." He read her next statement. "Not Asuka, not Ayanami, not Touji. Not me." Shinji stared at her. "So, in the interest of honesty, I'd truly like to know why you served. Why you continued to serve to this day."

_To find you._

"I told you the truth," Mana said. "It was all I knew how to do. And I really wanted to help people. I just felt the military was the easiest way to achieve that, given my past. I mean, okay, I still have problems with it, and their methods, but in this new world I really do believe they're trying to do good. I'm trying to do good. Honest."

Shinji turned back around. He weighed her words carefully.

"I see. Sorry. It's been a long time since I've met anyone like you. You do seem sincere. I'm not used to that. Meeting someone like you… it almost makes it worth it."

"Worth what?"

"Staying alive."

"Do you… do you wish you were dead?" Mana asked. "Is it really that bad? Do you really want to see those people again? All those you lost? Even if you could, do you hate yourself so much? I don't think you deserve half the pain you've been forced to shoulder. No one could say it's fair."

Mana moved closer to him, spreading her arms in a compassionate gesture.

"But staying silent forever won't help you. Trapping yourself inside a prison you made won't accomplish anything. Nothing good will come of it. All it can do is hurt.

"So please… who was Kaworu?" she asked him.

Mana could not believe the man before her was a killer. He might be prone to depression, and perhaps even fits of rage, but she refused to see him as a cold blooded murderer. She honestly didn't think he had it in him.

On an entirely different realm of consciousness, Mana realized that divulging her past to him was in a way merely an attempt for him to return the favor, to make him tell her who Kaworu was.

All the human, compassionate, caring parts of her wished her ploy would fail. But those aspects hadn't kept her alive for the past ten years. They hadn't served her when she first returned, when the world was in shambles. They never helped when the nightmares woke her up with screams and cold sweats.

The kettle whistled, high and wet. Shinji turned of the burner, but did not remove the water. He shut his eyes, and wished he could simply vanish.

Knowing won't change anything, Shinji finally thought.

He was tired. Of lies, of subterfuge, of deceptions and secrets and everything else associated with his life. He wanted at least a part of it to end.

"Kaworu was the first person I ever killed," Shinji said. "He was the only person I can remember telling me they loved me. He told me that, and then I murdered him. I crushed him in my hand and felt his bones and organs squeeze out between my fingers and watched his head plummet to my feet. I killed him, and then I killed every other human on the face of the earth. It was an easy choice.

"There is something inside me. It twists and turns my muscles and body to make me live and talk and act, but in the end all it is is pale imitation. Like a parrot. Or an infant. The real me, the me that fought all those years ago, died. He has been dead for many years. He died with Kaworu. And now, here, all that is left is a beast. Something that steals human faces and mannerisms, but can never achieve humanity. I tried to kill it once, and I failed.

"I've traded countless lives to continue my own. None of them deserved to die. I actually find it difficult to think of anyone as deserving death. It's like trapping someone in a dark room without doors or windows, and telling them to wait until the end of time. That is where I am right now."

He turned to look at her. His eyes were dark and violent and blue like an approaching storm.

"You cannot help me, Dr. Kirishima. No one can. I thank you for trying, because I truly do feel now that you want to. But it's useless. I am a beast now, more than ever. Now I do not have the luxury of excuses like youth, or inexperience, or fear, or ignorance. I've passed by all of those. All I have left is knowledge, and that makes me incredibly dangerous."

He took a step towards her, and she took a step away from him.

"If you truly wish to help me, then kill me. That is all anyone can do for me now. I'm done with talking. I'm done with acting. I'm done with thinking. I'm done with all of it. I'm not keeping things from people out of spite, or to exact a small measure of revenge. And it isn't to torture myself. It's to keep the fools you work for a safe distance from the curse of the Evangelion. That, that is what nothing good can come from. I can't in good conscience let you know anything. Because you'll just return to your base and report it, and that knowledge will be used again to hurt, and pillage, and tear apart anything it comes into contact with.

"And the only way to stop that from happening, the only sure way, is to kill me. That is the only help you can ever offer me."

Shinji turned back to the stove. He sighed like an old man.

"If you wouldn't mind," he said softly, "I really am tired. I'd like to rest now. Please excuse me if I don't see you out."

Mana tried to think of something to say. Something to ease him, or make him see things could get better. But they all sounded hideously false and contrived. She stared at his back, and wondered how many others had been here before her. How many doctors and military agents had questioned him, beaten him, made him this way.

This wasn't the man she had dreamed of for so many years. This wasn't the Shinji she wanted to meet. This was a broken human being. He went through the motions of living, but that was all. He had no passion, no desires or dreams or aspirations. He had lost all hope to better himself and his situation. All that was left was a pale imitation, an empty shell filled with self hate, regret and pain.

This was the Ikari Shinji free of her private desires and personal fantasies. This was who he was. This was no dashing hero, or suave superman, or daring champion. There was nothing but darkness remaining.

And for the first time since they met, Mana wondered if death truly was the only thing left for him. He had survived Angels, Evas, humans, and even his own hand. It seemed he was doomed to live life no matter what.

Mana had been through some difficult times in her young life, but she had never seriously considered suicide. She suddenly realized how different they were, and that no amount of talking, or shared experiences could ever bridge the gap.

Mana ducked her head, turned, and left. There was nothing else she could do now. She left the sterile kitchen, the crowded living room, the narrow front hall, the stone walkway. Her car, she remotely realized, did have its windows rolled up.

A part of her couldn't accept that this, this was how her quest ended. With quiet despair, with whimpers instead of bangs. When she had first started this journey, there was no doubt in her mind that she'd be able to help him. Failure never entered her mind. She thought their almost shared past gave her an advantage, and edge over everyone who came before her. But it had proven as useless as all her other gambits. She had done nothing but waste time, and soon she'd have to tell that to Taper. And then a fresh doctor off the military assembly line would appear to replace her, and the cycle would repeat until something finally did kill Shinji.

Would anything have changed if he told her all he knew? What did she think would happen? That the military would get everything they wanted, and she and Shinji would ride happily into the sunset? Had she ever been that foolish? She had always held onto a shred of idealism, because without it she'd be no different than the faceless survivors she listened to every day. She wanted to think she was stronger than they were. That she wouldn't give in to despair at the first sign of trouble.

Mana opened her car door and sat behind the wheel. She gripped it tightly, her knuckles white and bony. She stared up at Shinji's house, and felt the full force of her failure. She couldn't think of anything else to do for him. It felt like her life was crumbling between her fingers, and all she could do was watch. The motivation for her entire life had just been ripped away from under her feet. She had nothing left to stand on.

Mana didn't feel the first tear slip free of her eye, or the second, or the third. But soon all she was aware of was that she was crying. Not great, wracking sobs, just enough to shake her slim frame and wet her face. Just enough to make her wonder who she was crying for. The world was swimming in tears. What were a few more.

"Damn it," Mana whispered. She wiped angrily at her eyes. "Damn it."

There was nothing else she could do.

"Damn it."

* * *

End of chapter 6

Author notes: meh. This one just wouldn't come together the way I wanted. Oh well. But next chapter we finally get to see what the hell happened to Shinji. Oh, the drama!

You guys really need to stop taking me so seriously. The whole "all guys are perverts" rant last time was just a little venting. In my experience with men, they're all pervy. Maybe I'm just not meeting the right ones. Also, I can get pretty strange off my meds. Anyway. Take what I write with a grain of salt. Two grains even. But the point I was trying to make was simply that the male soldiers guarding Asuka saw her need for acceptance and took advantage of it. I really didn't think it was a huge leap of faith here. Well, fine. From now on, all seriousness. No more kidding. And next chapter could have used a touch of levity… oh well.

And sorry, but the plot won't really get moving until the interlude, after chapter seven. If you can stick it out, thanks. If not, there's always my next fic.

A GIANT thanks to the all-knowing Eric Tsai for filling me in on Mana's back story. Thank you. I truly appreciate it.


	7. Chapter 7

I Knew Him When chapter 7

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: don't own Eva.

* * *

The klaxon was spinning red headache, shrieking and screaming electric wail. It hurt him to hear it. It hurt him to see it. It dawned on Shinji that he did not want to be here.

His footsteps, as well as the footsteps of the men on either side of him, rang loud and hollow on the catwalk. It was a high gantry above a dark pit of abyss, that stretched farther than his sight could imagine. He was on a patchwork of metal grated walkways crisscrossing through the air like a spider web. There were people above and below him. Some looked at him. Some did not.

He felt like he had no control over his body. His legs carried him along, his arms allowed the men to hold him. He tried to speak, to ask where they were going, but he could not summon any words.

A loudspeaker drilled through the air.

"_Final weather outlook clear. Conditions green. Airspace clear of traffic for ten miles. Geothermic conditions nominal. No crust shifts detected. Electromagnetism green. Conditions within Tokyo-2 are all green. Base is ready for activation. All systems ready. All systems green."_

The klaxon roared.

A large foreigner leading him, a man with a jutting jaw, turned to Shinji.

"You're up, kid."

The gantry terminated in a wall that fell below his feet and rose above his head. Silhouetted in the wall, encased in it, was a giant white arm. The articulation, the mass, the lines and marks were all familiar, because he knew them.

Realization crested his conscious mind and he screamed.

The guards pushing him forward did not take kindly to his sudden, violent protests. He felt a blow to his stomach as he started to thrash.

"Idiots!" the man with the jaw yelled. "We need him intact! Just get him into the plug."

He kept screaming.

The two guards marched forward, dragging Shinji down the catwalk. They passed under a narrow gate, and then they were in the cage proper.

It was not a finished Evangelion unit, that much he could see. It was missing armor, covered in a thick, leathery skin flap which obscured its joints and edges. As he approached it, Shinji recognized the eyeless face, the broad, curving mouth and lips, the bulge on its back where the wings would sprout. It was one of the things that had killed Asuka, that had stolen Rei's face, that had forced him to witness the end of the world.

He kept screaming.

But they were stronger than he was. The guards and the man with the jaw pulled him, flailing and shrieking to the exposed plug. It was grey. It was unnumbered.

His throat was raw and sore. He could no longer scream.

"I don't… I don't want to," Shinji whimpered. "Please don't make me…"

"Shut up and get in, asshole," the soldier on his right hissed. "And don't get any shitty ideas, either. We can have you and your little bitch friend killed if you try anything."

He was shoved forward, through the hatch, clipping his shoulder. He gasped in pain as he stumbled into the plug seat. The hatch closed before he could look back up. When he did he felt ill. The door's inside handle was missing. He was trapped.

His weak hands futilely beat against the plug's wall. His breath hiccupped and clicked.

"Let me out! Please! Please! God, _please!_"

He only yelled a little as the LCL slipped up past his face. He wondered if it was possible to hyperventilate in the coppery liquid. He wondered who he was breathing in right now. Had they collected this blood from the sea? Which of his friends' collapsed bodies was entering him as he drew short, terrified breaths? Was that Kensuke tickling his nose? Ritsuko-san sliding down his throat? Misato-san splashing in his lungs?

"Let me out! God, stop it!" He thrashed in panic. _"Let me out!"_

The entry plug dissolved as a connection was made. He felt the dull sensation of the Eva trying to synch with him, a subtle extension of his body and mind. Like something trying to get under his skin. In a very real sense, something was.

Shinji kept his eyes shut, trying to make himself pass out.

_Just don't think. Don't do anything and nothing will happen. Don't think. Nothing bad will happen. It might… it might not even have anyone inside it._

"Hello."

Two slender arms wrapped around Shinji's body, and a face fell on his shoulder. He looked back and found Nagisa Kaworu staring down at him. His eyes were missing, his lips curled back in a toothless grin. His neck became visible for a moment as he titled his head, and Shinji saw small eyes and mouths and fingers covering his neck. He looked down. Kaworu was naked, the bottom half of his body fused into a grotesque mass of flesh and tubes and wires at the base of the plug seat. What was pale and skin was covered in empty eye sockets, gaping mouths, crooked pointing fingers.

"I want to show you something," the thing told Shinji. The plug walls vanished in a flash of light, and the world beyond was a fiery hell. He saw other white Evangelions appear, their mouths opening wide and collapsing behind their necks, letting Kaworu heads push up. They all smiled.

Shinji screamed, flailing his arms and legs. His eyes closed but even in the darkness he could see. His mind's eye opened. He saw Kaworu floating in a glass tube. He saw a giant of light. He saw the construction of the white units. He saw strange men and talking monoliths. He saw Rei. He saw Asuka, torn asunder. He saw Asuka, dying in her plug. He saw Rei again, giant, and white, and heavenly. He saw every human on earth collapse to puddles of LCL. He saw his mother. He saw his father.

He tasted his father, his mangled torso squirting between his teeth. Bones cracked like pocky sticks. He could feel, _feel_, as he bit down on the head, the teeth applying horrible pressure, hair and skin on the polished enamel… the crack of the skull splitting in three, the brains gnashed against tooth and tongue and lips. He ate his father and felt his knowledge drip down into him. He ate his soul and felt his emotions churn his stomach.

"Look at this," Kaworu said.

The black egg of Lilith was swirling in Rei's hands. Souls flew around it, into it, all howling for release, all desperate to see their new God. Shinji heard them all, the voices and shouts and emotions colliding together within his mind. He could feel them making holes where they entered, leaving wet spiraling trails of bloody tears. He could feel them emptying his brain, careening off the inside of his skull. Soon there was no filtration system between what he saw and what he thought. His eyes allowed everything into him, and he could not process it all.

He saw Third Impact for the second time in his life. He saw it and lost his mind again.

Three months later Ikari Shinji slit his wrists.

* * *

"Shinji-san, hello. I hope this isn't a bad time…"

"My days are surprisingly absent of good and bad times, Dr. Kirishima. There is only time." He made a sound that was almost a sigh, but not quite. "Come in."

Mana stepped through the threshold, smiling to her host. He looked tired and weary. Like always.

"You… you look awful, Shinji-san," she said. "Did I wake you up?"

"Actually… yes, you did. No, don't apologize. I shouldn't be sleeping in the middle of the day anyway."

"Well, you don't look very rested at all."

"No, I suppose not. I… it was just an old nightmare. Imagine me, a twenty six year old, still having nightmares. It's a little ridiculous."

"No," Mana said, frowning seriously. "Not at all. I… well, if anyone has a right to bad dreams, it would be you, Shinji-san."

"A right to nightmares… that sounds rather pathetic." He guided her to the couch, and he again sat opposite her on the chair. "Excuse me for being rude, but why are you here? There's nothing left to discuss. There's nothing left I can tell you."

"I don't believe that's true." Mana peered at him. "For starters, you could tell me why you always sit so far away from me. I won't bite you, I promise."

Shinji frowned, blinking in confusion.

"Well, I… I just thought you'd be more comfortable sitting across from me. Isn't it easier to conduct interviews this way?"

"Perhaps… but I can't help but feel like you're manipulating me, Shinji-san."

"What? How?"

"This couch is plush, and I sink down in it. You're sitting in a stiff chair and are higher than me. Can you tell me you're not trying to keep some power over me?" Mana's face remained blank, keeping him guessing if she was angry or not.

"… I never really thought of that. I just thought the couch was more comfortable for you. I… the other rooms in the house aren't this relaxed, and I've always talked to people in here, like this… I'm sorry. I honestly wasn't trying to one-up you, doctor."

Mana's face never shifted from bland indifference.

"And I honestly don't believe I'm the first person to bring this up, am I?" she asked.

"… well… no, but—"

She grinned and laughed once, holding her hand to her mouth.

"I don't begrudge you holding some power over me, Shinji-san. I guess you must be sick to death of all us military dogs badgering you everyday. I completely understand."

"I don't consider you dogs," he said.

"Right. What do you consider us? Vultures? Demons?"

"You're doing your job. If some teenage kid piloting a bio-mechanical war machine who was directly involved with the last few months of the world was in my possession, I'd question him too. I can't be angry at you, doctor. It's behind me."

"That's… big of you," she admitted. "I wish I could forgive people like you do."

"I never said I forgave anyone. It just doesn't matter anymore."

A brief, awkward silence fell.

"So," Mana finally asked. "Want to sit on the couch with me?"

Shinji bowed his head, grinning softly. It was the first time she had seen such an unguarded display from him.

"If it's what you want."

"Still eager to please, Shinji-san?" She couldn't resist the opportunity to tease a little.

"I can't help it. I don't get the chance that often anymore."

He sank down beside her, being careful not to look at her. Mana glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, inwardly grinning at how thin he was, how angular and sharp the physical lines of his body appeared to her.

_He's so skinny!_

They were silent for a time, Mana putting her thoughts in order about where to proceed, Shinji simply relishing the company of another human being. When at length she still did not say anything, he decided to speak to her.

"May I ask you a personal question, doctor?"

"Uh… that depends on how personal."

"It's nothing strange, I don't think. I just… I wonder what you think about me." Shinji waved his hands. "It isn't like I'm an egomaniac or anything, it's just… well, everyone I've ever talked to, since I came back… they either hate me, or fear me, or adore me. Some are better than others at hiding it… like you." He glanced at her, frowning. "I'm sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no. No. It's… I mean, well… I suppose you've earned the right to ask people that." She sighed. Mana never considered herself someone who wore their heart on their sleeve, but she thought it was fairly clear what she thought of him. Why would he ask? He was too smart not to know already.

But she did want to tell him, if only to help heal his damaged ego.

"Honestly," she said, "I… well, I think you're basically a good person in a bad situation. You're smart, witty, and seem to want to help people. Not that you're perfect or anything. I… well, you focus on the negative an awful lot. Not that your life is particularly rosy or pleasurable, but… you seem to not want to see anything nice or light. Like you're using your intellect to shield yourself from emotions. I personally think you're selling yourself short. I… obviously I don't know what you've been through, or what living in isolation is really like, but… I don't know. It makes me sad to see someone so jaded." She sighed again, and shrugged. "That's what I think."

"Thank you," Shinji said, after a pause. "For being honest."

She nodded.

"I always try to be." Mana rubbed her arm. "Well, what do you think about me? It's only fair, Shinji-san. And yes, I'm asking because I'm an egomaniac."

He looked at her, tracing the contours of her face with his eyes.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Wh-what? What? What does that have to do with—"

"You said you were fourteen in 2015. I'd like to know how old you are now."

"I'm…" Mana stopped. She was not twenty six. Even thought it was 2027. She, like everyone else, had lost a few years in the sea. Stripped away by the Evangelions. "I'm twenty four," she said, not looking at him.

"I see…" He leaned back and sighed. "What I think about you… I think you're a smart, motivated person who tries too hard sometimes, but has her heart in the right place. I think you're a good person, helping people who lack your strength and courage. I think that perhaps you get frustrated sometimes with your job, with this world, but you don't let anyone else see it. You're good at keeping people at a distance, when you want. But you aren't cold about it. It's as much for their protection as it is for your own." He paused. "I also think I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. It's the same debt I owe everyone who returned. And everyone who hasn't."

It took her a moment to process everything he said.

_He should be doing my job._ She blushed.

"… thank you, Shinji-san." Mana blinked quickly, dispelling a watery sensation. "I… I wish I could have met you… back than. Before all of this… before… all of this…"

Shinji nodded faintly.

"You would have been greatly disappointed. I am not the legend people make me out to be." He blew out a breath. "I am not the God people say I am."

"I don't think you're a God, either. But I do think you're a legend. I think… you're a hero…"

And she believed it. She believed it despite the military's indoctrination, despite the propaganda espoused by the UN and JSSDF. She wanted to believe it.

Because he was like her: a child forced into the dark world of adults, children without childhoods. Made to grow too fast, innocence stripped away, until nothing but machine was left. Machines bred to fight, to kill, for cowardly adults who were afraid to get any blood on their hands.

Shinji was as much a victim as she was, probably more so. He was a civilian. He was forced into this dark world without training, or even the barest preparation. And this end result, this broken man was all that was left.

Fate was a cruel, vicious devil. It takes without warning or remorse, and never stays to help pick up the pieces. Mana had seen it far too many times; life striking without warning to shatter the most carefully laid plans. She had lived it too many times.

She had lived it for the past eight years. Relentlessly hunting for the truth the man beside her held, wading through the human misery of countless anonymous survivors, suffering in silence by herself alone in her apartment every night. This was what her life truly was: for all its pain and fear and confusion and nightmares, it was to reach this point. Where she was right this instant was the culmination of a life's work and struggle. She genuinely felt she was destined to be here, to meet him, to know the truth. It was fated.

Not for the first time Mana wondered what he would have been like if they had met, outside of this dim setting. If the plan from so long ago had been executed. The arrogant, proud side of her imagined she would have been able to solve all his problems, and in turn, save the world. The tiny, tickling part of her that still had desires and wishes imagined a bright and colorful affair that gave them hope and strength. But it was all worthless daydreaming next to the real thing.

She looked at him. The boy from the countless pictures she had on file was gone; he no longer had the subtle curving lines of his youth. He was a man now, all angles and edges. Everything about him was longer and sharper now. He appeared almost brittle. It was in acute contrast to all her early fantasies about him, of a dashing, strong superman who defeated Angels with a flick of his wrist. But she surprised herself by not being disappointed. She found the truth, the reality of sitting next to Ikari Shinji, no matter what form he took, to be far superior to any idle musing or private desire. He was here and real; skinniness, gloom, sadness and torture notwithstanding. He was real.

And he was not unattractive, the superficial beast inside her triumphed. The soft cuteness that had made her feel so warm so often was absent, but this, this darkness and harshness was the logical outcome of the life he led. He was handsome, in a depressive, brooding sort of way. Usually not her type. She liked someone who could make her laugh, make her forget. Looking at Shinji she was reminded of everything negative about herself, and her past. She saw a dark reflection of herself.

But here he was, the flesh and blood dream she had carried with her for nearly a decade. The person she wanted to meet, more than anyone. She genuinely felt he was the reason she returned. And he was here now, right beside her, breathing the same air, sitting on the same couch, living the same life. He was here. And so was she.

She looked up at him, her mouth open a sliver, and for the life of her, Mana thought she was going to kiss him. She discounted her training and her logic and found herself leaning towards him. She felt hot and electric, like there was a fire rippling under her skin, accumulating in her lips, propelling her forward to his like a magnet.

Her pelvis stopped quivering when she found him regarding her coldly. Like she had just insulted his mother.

"A hero?" Shinji said. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

The teenage fantasy that had momentarily seized Mana crumbled. With all the subtlety of an arid sponge between her legs.

"All the heroes I know are dead," he went on.

I'm trapped.

"They all died that day."

I want to die.

"I did nothing heroic, or worth remembering."

I want to die and stay dead.

"All I can do now is talk about them. To keep them alive in my thoughts and words, because I can never see them again."

I want to die and not come back.

"Never again."

I want to die.

Please, please God…

Let me die.

* * *

Shinji lay in the bathtub, the blood running out of his veins, the crimson razor lying at his side. He held his wrist over the drain, watching with detached fascination as its contents swirled and stained. Everything was red. Deep, sleek, deadly red.

It hurt, yes, but it was the same hurt like when he broke his hand against the floor, or detached his eyeball, or attempted to tear his tongue out. Not that he recalled any of those episodes clearly, but lying in the tub, watching the life drain from him, Shinji recaptured a degree of lucidity. He regained the ability to see himself, at least from a safe distance. He was aware he was going to die, really die this time, just like he should have all those years ago. At Third Impact, at Zeruel's hand, at Bardiel's hand, at Matariel's, at Israfel's, at Gaghiel's, at Ramiel's, Shamshel's, Sachiel's, Unit-01, father, mother, his own hand. They all blurred and blended until his entire past became a single moment for him, a single breath or blink of the eye. A single second of pain and hate and fear and loneliness. A single red, sustained line of liquid that bled from the deepest cut on his wrist. He watched it depart him and vanish down the drain, and he felt lighter as more left him. He smiled as it left him.

"_You must not die yet."_

Shinji coughed, the chill gaining. Was this finally the end? Would he finally be able to rest? He didn't know if he would be allowed to see his mother and father, or Misato, or Rei, or Kaworu, or anyone else. He found he didn't care. As long as he didn't feel anymore. As long as he could escape from feeling anything. That was his last, his only wish. The final act of selfishness.

"_This is not the world I gave to you."_

To heaven, to hell, to limbo… he didn't care. It didn't matter where he went. He knew where he deserved to go, and everlasting torment did hold a certain allure, but he was generally confused on this part. Was this hell right here, right now? Was this hell, where he had woken up on the beach so many years ago? It felt like it. Maybe him dying again right now was his being reborn. He tried to make some kind of horror rise in him regarding the possibility, but he was so tired of feeling. He just wanted to rest.

"_This is not the world I wanted you to have."_

Shinji lolled his head to the side. There was someone else in the bathroom with him. Someone he knew, someone else he had killed, a lifetime of pain ago. He didn't want to see, to be reminded of all the guilt and hate, and he didn't. His emotions had just finished swirling the drain. Next would be his soul.

"_I will not allow you to die, Ikari-kun."_

Ayanami Rei stood over him, peering down at his broken form. She kneeled, taking time to fold her school dress under her legs. She passed her fingers over his opened wrist, and it stopped bleeding. She touched his brow and the madness lifted from his eyes.

"_Not like this."_

She was smiling at him. The same smile she gave him in the sea, between the earth and the black moon, between conscious life and blissful artifice.

_Ayanami._

Her hand ran through his hair, a gentle, intimate gesture. She touched his face. She still smiled.

_Ayanami._

She stood, or appeared to. But he still felt her soft fingers on him. He never knew something could feel so good. The tears fell from his eyes, as the blood stayed in his body. The blood carrying his emotions, and feelings, and soul. They wouldn't leave him now.

_Ayanami. Don't save me again. _

She was gone. He couldn't feel her touch. He looked at his wrist. Nothing but a deep purple scar. He looked at the tub. Nothing but smudged crimson at the edges. He looked at the razor. It was shining and clean.

_Ayanami… not again…_

He was alive, and he felt it. He couldn't stop feeling it. The veins pumping life throughout his body charged blindly ahead, heedless of self-destructive orders. He was trapped in this pathetic shell and could not escape. He was doomed to life.

_Ayanami…_

To a life filled to the brim with regret and recrimination and agony. He was the cause of this hell on earth. He was the reason so many people died. He was the reason so many had not yet returned. He was cursed to the life he had given up on. Not even his own hand could stop it.

He was alive, and was mercilessly assaulted on all sides by his lifetime of overwhelming failures and missed opportunities. Nothing was spared and his life, the entire sad stretch from beginning to end to beginning to end was sharp and precise and he could not run away from it. He relived each and every defeat, each disappointment, each eternal frustration without pause or end. The crushing weight of self awareness fell all around him and an entire world in ruin screamed in his ears.

THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT

_Ayanami… please let me die this time._

Shinji stayed on the floor, arm stretched towards the drain, the cool tile pressed against his face. The tears still fell from his eyes.

* * *

End of chapter 7

Author notes: the opening was what drove him completely insane. The ending was what, figuratively speaking, knocked some sense back into him. Felt like it was time to tell it. I know it's a let down, but cut me some slack. My dark tanks are running on fumes. Does that mean this is going to have a happy ending? Not likely.

Next time is an interlude, which will up the insanity level considerably. And will actually move the plot forward to its conclusion. I'm planning roughly ten or eleven chapters, depending on how much I want to cram into the next few.

But the real question on everybody's minds is if Mana and Shinji are going to hook up. I know that's what most of you might want, but _man_. Creepy. A psychologist and her patient. Wrong.


	8. Interlude

I Knew Him When interlude

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: you're suspending your disbelief… you're suspending your disbelief… I don't own Evangelion…

* * *

"Once upon a time, there was a man. He was ambitious and fearless. But he was still a man. He met a brilliant young scientist and some say he fell in love with her. Others say it was a relationship of convenience, for both of them. He wanted the support of her beneficiaries, and she wanted a father for the child she desired. The exact classification of their bond was debated by even the closest of their friends.

"They were married shortly after what we call the Second Impact occurred. They were married, and they had a child. A son. He was alive to see the formative steps society made at the turn of the century, the years of hell following the catastrophe. He was there too, to see when his mother was taken by the hands of God to a world of living death. His father left him to pursue an important work, the most important work, and they grew apart. Some say they were never together.

"The boy grew and was sad, and had never been taught the word 'no.' His father called on him one day, and ordered him to fight many giants that threatened his kingdom, and because he could not say no, he fought.

"He fought and fought and fought, and with every giant he slew, a part of him died as well. Until finally, faced with the accumulated losses by his hand, he wished for death. And he was given death. He gave everyone death.

"But then he made another wish, and the world was restored, to a degree. His choice was mankind's choice. Every human being was forced to decide. Between life, and non life. At present, nearly two billion have chosen life, including you and I. The rest are all locked away, dreaming each other's dreams, in a place without physical boundaries or individuality. A mass dream. Not unlike the nightmares that plague those who have returned from the sea.

"Not too many people talk openly about it, but it is an irrefutable matter of fact. No one is happy to go to sleep nowadays. I know you've had them, too. The familiar dream where an infinite number of eyes all watch you, where your body dissolves into blood, where your thoughts grow outside your mind and a million alien thoughts enter in their place. Do you wake up screaming anymore? I wonder sometimes… I wonder what the son dreams of. Do you?"

"It's pointless to wonder," Aida Kensuke said. "And I know all of that. Did you call me out here just to flex your story telling abilities?"

The bar he was in was sparsely occupied. From the back, sitting in a tiny booth, the other patrons at the front counter were lost in a sea of cigarette smoke. Lights hung suspended freely like stars in a misty night sky.

Kensuke regarded the man beside him, who had contacted him yesterday, referring to him by a name no one but his closest contacts knew of. That alone necessitated the trip.

The man was short and small, with slicked back hair and a thin moustache hanging on his lip. He exuded relaxed confidence, the benefit of knowing far too much about far too many things.

"I expected you to know a little," the man beside Kensuke went on, "but where did you hear the rest?"

"Here and there. Where I learned it isn't important."

"I suppose not. Man does have an insatiable hunger for knowledge, does he not? Even when that knowledge is dangerous and forbidden. Man is a silly creature, really. Don't you agree?" The man waited for a response, got none. He shrugged good-naturedly. "What do you know about the Tokyo-2 tragedy?"

Kensuke shifted the weight on his seat, his fingers clawing around the rim of his glass on the table.

"Not a lot," he admitted. "It's still a bit too recent to openly talk about conspiracy theories. A lot of people died that day."

"Yes, many people died. But the real question is, what did they die for?"

"Let me guess," Kensuke said. "You're not going to say national sovereignty, are you?"

"Oh, it was the impetus for the action, but it was not the underlying cause. Radicals, in a sense, did trigger it. The deaths of so many. Actually, I believe it was inevitable, in its own way."

"Inevitable?"

"Well, not fated or anything like that. But a logical outcome."

"Bullshit," Kensuke whispered fiercely. "I knew a lot of good people that died that day. They aren't coming back. It was caused by some lone nut who hated the UN. Probably a bitter military fuck."

The man watched Kensuke expend his anger, smiling patiently.

"Someone from the military, yes. Bitter? In a way, I suppose… but have you ever wondered why the official reports were all delayed? Why the UN swooped in directly afterward, cementing their power? Why even today, it is a taboo subject?"

"Please," Kensuke said, "enlighten me."

"An N2 mine, even several, could not match the destructive force that decimated Tokyo-2. Also, the UN was the only organization at that point in time to have access to that particular weapon. And why hasn't Tokyo-2 been rebuilt as a civilian city? Certainly, its location marks it as a natural candidate. But it sits, to this day, under UN military lock and key. Have you not thought about these points before this?"

Kensuke tilted his glass forward, sucking out a mouthful. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

The man watched him for a moment, then moved on.

"What do you know about the mass produced series?" he asked.

"That Asuka kicked the living shit out of them, why?"

"Well, that is the popular theory, isn't it?" The man stopped the take a sip of his drink. It was dark brown. "The mass produced series was never intended to go into battle. It was not their primary function."

"Not their primary function?" Kensuke said. "Building nine Evas that can't fight seems a little wasteful. And idiotic."

"It all depends on definitions. Everything depends on definitions. Everything in the world. Take, for instance, this bar." He gestured to the room they were in. "Some see this as a den of sin. Some see it as a place to meet potential mates. Some see it as a place to escape reality. Everyone holds a unique view regarding this establishment. They are all equally of value, but in the end, none of them matter."

"Because?"

"Because, only the one who built it realizes its true function. When you create something, it is fresh, virginal, pure. A clean slate. But when you complete it, filled with your hopes and aspirations, it must enter the real world. And when it does, other people begin adding purposes to it, or taking purpose from it. And eventually, the original creator dies, and his true purpose is forgotten."

"So what? You're saying Ikari Yui's true intent for the Evas wasn't to fight?"

"In a matter of speaking."

"You may be paying for the drinks," Kensuke said, "but you're really wearing your welcome out. Get to the point."

"The Evangelion series, as you and I know them, were never in their true form. Their reason for existing, if you will. They were carefully locked away, and the locks were guarded fiercely by those who did not understand their nature. In a way, there were so many Units because the creators were perfecting the formula. From prototype, to test type, to production type. And the mass produced series was the culmination of their wisdom and hope. With each completed model they were getting closer and closer to their ideal.

"And even with the astronomical cost and resources needed to create an Evangelion, those in power authorized unit after unit, heedless of all other concerns. Like nothing else mattered. Doesn't that strike you oddly? That even with foreknowledge of the Angels, so much was expended for such a localized problem?"

"The point?" Kensuke said again.

"Why make nine, when you could make ten just as easily?" The man watched his companion's eyes grow wide. "Or eleven, or twelve, or thirteen? Who's to say how many are still out there. Even I don't know for sure. Regrettably, record keeping isn't what it used to be, and—"

"_You're saying there are more Evangelion units?"_

"Don't act so surprised," the man said with breezy confidence. He almost sounded amused. "Do you think the people responsible for the mass produced series would send their full hand to NERV during the attack? Isn't that a bit… shortsighted? What if their plan failed? What if their precious units were destroyed, or lost? What then?"

He laughed. It sounded alien and foreign from his lips.

"Of course they had a contingency plan," the man went on. "Of course they did. But what with all the confusion and chaos of the returns and the reconstruction, well… things have a way of losing themselves. But they also have a way of being found."

"You're telling me," Kensuke said in a stabbing whisper, "that an Evangelion unit caused the destruction of Tokyo-2?"

"You catch on fast. Good. It makes me glad I decided to contact you." The man drained his glass and slid it away from him. "You see, my employer is a very shy individual. And has a little problem 

concerning dirt on his hands. Despite what you might think, power and money don't always get the stains out. And I was wondering, what with your natural curiosity and connections, if you'd be terribly averse to doing me a favor."

"Cut to the chase," Kensuke said. His eyes flickered around the bar, searching for anything out of place. Like a few armed service men with laser sights trained on his head. "You didn't call me out here to have a friendly chat. You want something big, and you're making sure I will have to comply, right?"

"Whatever do you mean, Aida-san?"

"You're telling me things that no one is supposed to know. Things that could get me killed. You're ensuring my cooperation."

The man smiled innocently.

"I am simply trying to give you what you want," he said, "more than anything else in this world."

"And what's that?" Kensuke bit out.

"The location of your friend."

Aida felt a solitary bead of sweat trek down the side of his face. He removed his glasses, polished them on his shirt tail, and replaced them. He took a breath.

"What?" he asked.

"Your friend," the man said easily. "The son of the man and woman. The boy who never learned the word no. I was wondering… would you like to meet him again?"

_More than anything._

"You're telling me… you know where Ikari Shinji is?"

"Not at the moment, no." The man's face smiled softly, a twisting of muscles to distort his mouth. "But I can lead you to the path. What you decide to do once you step on it is up to you. But in return I must ask a favor."

"Anything," Kensuke blurted out.

"Now," the man said, still smiling softly, "now, we can speak."

* * *

Kensuke returned to his tiny home. He lived in a low rent apartment building deep within the Kyoto industrial district. He worked as a computer stress test programmer at a fabrication plant that produced frames for buildings. In the wake of Third Impact reconstruction was a booming business in Japan. The only real business to make a living nowadays. And as a young, knowledgeable computer geek, Kensuke had found work almost immediately after his return. The need for his skills was so great, his lack of a college degree never hindered him. The world couldn't be concerned with a piece of paper, not when humanity needed rebuilding.

In fact, most of the people he worked with were either old vets of the industry, or young men like himself. Across the country businesses were run similarly. Skill preempted formal training. If you could do a job, regardless of background, you did it. Man's need to survive trumped all other concerns.

It was late when he arrived home; the sky was pitch dark, the halo obscured by impenetrable clouds. Kensuke took a moment at his door to gaze up into the heavens, eyes vainly searching. The halo was always a kind of puzzle to him. It conjured thoughts of immense battles, of gods piercing each other with giant swords, divine blood sprayed across space.

Of course, he knew better than to fantasize about such things. He knew the truth, or the closest version of it he would ever obtain. He knew enough to satisfy his contacts, his fellows, but never himself. He lived his life in crushing inferiority. There was more, there had to be, but the people he considered his peers were content to spout statistics and clichés. Kensuke wanted more.

He opened his front door and carefully stepped inside. His apartment was dirty. There was no way around it. It was small, and he had long ago dissolved any realistic attempts at sanitizing it properly. He accepted it, made peace with it. On the few occasions he did have someone over, it was to talk, or to fuck. Kensuke realized he preferred talking.

It allowed him to shatter the lies the world had been crushed under. The truth may not lay with him, but his words were less of a lie. Less of an affront to those who lived through the time of Angels and hell on earth. He saw it as his duty to teach, to disseminate the actual happenings of the Evangelions and the pilots and NERV and the world they existed in. It was not an easy task. Superstition, fear, worship, confusion… they made his life difficult. But a hard life was something he was resigned to. Had been for years. Ever since he returned. Sometimes, late at night, alone, he wondered why he ever made the choice for life. For individuality. For an AT-Field.

_Did I make the same choice he did?_

Kensuke walked into his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. He traversed in the dark over cds, books, clothes, dishes, newspapers, electronic equipment. He walked to a small closet next to his bed, and opened it.

Within was a low shelf laying on the floor, its edges smoothed and painted white. It was wide, about the size of a large shoe box. All around it, plastering the walls in overlapping display from floor to ceiling were relics, mementos, reminders. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures of a blue eyed boy, small and slender, with dark brown hair falling over his forehead. In most he wore a school uniform. In others he wore a gym suit, formal attire, casual clothes. In one he wore swim trunks, and sat near the fence that enclosed a pool. In one he wore a plug suit, white and blue, like a second skin.

Stacked all around the shelf were data disks, all labeled by date. Kensuke rifled through them absently. He pulled one out with a faded cover slip, well worn and well handled. It had taken him years to track down the contents of the house he had moved into after the Sixteenth, and his library of recordings from his teen years in Tokyo-3. Years, and enough money to finance a respectable recreation. But they were his again, and nothing would change that.

Lying on the shelf rested an old video recorder, nicked and scratched with heavy use. It wasn't the same device that had accompanied him for most of his youth; that was lost long ago during the chaos of the Impact. This was newer, more compact and sharper. His one vice.

He slipped the disk into it with practiced ease. He pulled out the side display. Static crackled over the screen for a few moments, then an exterior shot of the Tokyo-3 junior high school, seen through his distinctive wobble as he held the camera, a lifetime ago.

"And we now join our heroes," Kensuke's teenage voice intoned, "at the start of another day. What excitement does fate hold for the mighty pilots of the Evangelions? Another battle? Lengthy and mysterious tests? Or simply a mundane, ordinary stretch of boredom we call school? Let's find out."

The picture derezzed, then came back, later in the morning. The shot displayed an interior view of a classroom, students talking amongst themselves before the sensei began the morning's lesson. The camera panned over the entire class in silence, then focused on the solitary figure of Ayanami Rei, sitting at her desk, staring out the window.

"Ayanami," Kensuke intoned, "is the First Children, selected to pilot Unit-00, the prototype. She is calm and detached, and is often mysteriously absent from school for days at a time. Perhaps it is because of her albinism, or perhaps it is a darker secret that NERV has covered up. We may never know. But maybe today she'd be willing to grace us with an interview."

The camera stayed still for a long moment, focused on Rei. She gave no sign she heard him, or cared. The camera stared at her.

"… maybe tomorrow," Kensuke said. He moved on, directing the recorder past Touji, who was face down on his desk, asleep. It zoomed in on a tall girl with long red hair, in the center of a flock of female students. She talked animatedly, using hand gestures and overt facial expressions.

"Soryu Asuka Langley. The Second Children. Pilot of Evangelion Unit-02, the first production model. Confident, brash, assertive and beautiful, she is currently the top ranked pilot NERV has."

There was a pause.

"Um, rewind later and take out the beautiful part."

Teenage Kensuke cleared his throat.

"She is currently the top ranked pilot NERV has. Hailing from Germany, Asuka has adapted admirably to Japanese culture and life. She speaks the language fluently, and is rumored to be a genius. Despite this, she is not above childish arguments and physical altercations. Also, her grades are not as impressive as one might expect from a college grad. She currently resides with her commanding officer, major Katsuragi Misato."

Another pause, though the camera still focused on Asuka.

"Maybe break and insert footage of Katsuragi-san, maybe add some playful music. Saxophone or something."

Another pause. The camera wobbled, as Kensuke walked towards Asuka. When she saw him coming, her face held a dark smile, solely for the benefit of the uninformed masses around her.

"Asuka! Asuka!" he called out. "Could you spare a moment of your busy schedule to talk to the press?"

"Buzz off, Aida," she said through her teeth. The girls flanking her giggled.

"No, no. Really. I was hoping you'd be willing to speak to us about the attack yesterday. All three Eva units were utilized again, right?"

"None of your business."

"But is it true there was an upper atmosphere detonation of an N2 mine? Possibly in space?"

"… I don't even want to know how you know that." Asuka made a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, there was an attack yesterday, genius. We don't evacuate you guys to the shelters for shits and giggles."

The girls around her blushed at her sharp foreign tongue.

"Yeah, we were victorious, but it was no big deal," she continued. "Why are you torturing me with your inane questions? That's what Shinji's for. Or go pester little miss honor student."

"But I'm asking you. By the way," Kensuke cut in smoothly, "I heard the deciding factor in yesterday's sortie was Unit-01."

Asuka stiffened.

"And that Shinji performed under extreme—"

"I'm the one who killed it!" the redhead shouted. "I was the one who plunged the knife into it! Not the First, not stupid Shinji! Me!" She held the corners of the camera, making it focus solely on her. "Hear that, stooge? There's your damn report." She pushed him away.

"Well," Kensuke's voice said from behind the lens, "it would seem Ms. Soryu has provided only one side of the argument. Shall we ask another, independent source?"

The camera spun, focusing again on Rei. She still stared out the window.

"… um, perhaps a bystander's view? From the protectors to the protected." The camera turned to Touji, still face down on his desk. "Suzahara-kun. A few words about the impact of living through one of, if not the most, important times in human history? Well?"

"Shaddup." The jock raised his head enough to slide one arm out, and leisurely flipped his friend the bird. He then replaced it under his face.

"The press is never appreciated by the uniformed masses." Kenuske rotated to the opened door of the classroom, including the clock above the frame, ticking off the minutes. "It appears we will have to wait for the last interview viable Children, who if he isn't here in two minutes, will have to hold buckets. Again."

A minute passed. Shinji came running into the class, panting hard. He doubled over, his hands on his knees. He stayed like that until Kensuke maneuvered next to him.

"Late again?"

"Just… overslept… a little," Shinji managed. He stood up, holding a thin hand over his heart. "Jeez. I just…" He glanced at the camera, and got a touch flustered. "Um, Asuka just forgot to wake me up this morning. I—"

"What did you do?"

"He knows what he did!" Asuka shouted out of frame. "Pervert!"

"Now you have to tell me what you did."

Shinji blushed.

"N-nothing! I swear, nothing! It was just a misunderstanding!" He glanced at Rei and bit his lip. Off screen, Asuka threw something. A book collided with Shinji's left temple. "Ow!"

"Stupid!"

"Ah," Kensuke said, in his deepest voice, "youthful love amongst the dedicated pilots of the Eva program. Is it any wonder we—"

Something sizable struck the camera, and fell to the floor. It focused intently on a desk leg, then went black.

After a moment the picture cleared, and a broad sweeping shot of the school was shown, from the roof looking down. The sun was high above, casting everything in the smallest shadows possible. Like black halos at their feet.

"So really," Touji was saying. The camera panned right, showing Shinji and Touji eating lunch, their backs against the rails of the roof. Shinji was cowering, hunching his shoulders and closing his legs. Touji still looked sleepy eyed. "What happened? Red was unusually cheerful this morning."

"I just… it's nothing. Really."

The camera zoomed in on the pilot.

"Aida Kensuke, embattled photojournalist, would like to know." He paused for effect. "Where exactly did you get that fresh bruise on your cheek?" He zoomed in and out several times as he awaited a reply. "Well? You're not getting out of it this time, Shinji."

The boy sighed. The kind of sigh an old man made.

"… Asuka," he admitted. He gently touched the swollen side of his face. "She… really, it's nothing and—"

"Just say it," Touji grumbled tiredly.

"Well… I mean, I think she just overreacted. I mean… just… okay. Okay. Don't… don't make a big deal out of it, because it isn't, alright? Last night, I had this… weird dream."

The camera zoomed closer.

"Everybody's had them," Touji said through a yawn. "It's called being a guy."

"No," Shinji said, coloring. "No, I mean, I don't think it was… _that _kind of a dream. It… during the battle yesterday… I mean, I had to catch the whole Angel by myself, and it hurt, a lot… and in the heat of battle, I think I… I think I yelled at Ayanami. I mean, there was a lot of noise, and I just wasn't thinking. I just…"

He made a futile gesture and frowned.

"So… I was kind of thinking about it the rest of the day. Even when my…" He drifted off. "Even when we went out to eat, I just couldn't…"

"What's the big deal?" Touji asked, his lack of rest cutting his tolerance for his friend's faults to the quick. "She didn't say nothing to you, did she?"

"Well, no, no, but… I mean, she never says anything. Even when Asuka gives her a hard time. I doubt she'd say when something bothered her. I don't think she likes attention." Shinji swallowed hard. "I tried to apologize after dinner, but… but I just watched her. I couldn't…"

"And when does the bruised cheek come into this?"

"Sorry. I'm getting to it. So after we went home, I was still thinking about it. I guess… I must have still been thinking about it when I went to sleep. I… I dreamed about her."

Touji grunted off screen.

"Not… not like, anything weird," Shinji said. "We were… we were in a train, at twilight. It was… kind of peaceful. We were just kind of sitting there, across from each other. I think we were talking, but I can't remember what we said. I felt… I don't really know. Peaceful and tranquil. Like everything but contentment was absolved. I could have stayed there for years.

"And then… I don't know. Something happened. The train melted away, and Rei was… not wearing any clothes. I tried to look away, but everywhere I turned she was there. Like there were hundreds of Reis.

"And I guess I must have said her name out loud or something, because the next thing I know it's like midnight and Asuka's waking me up and hitting me. She must have… thought…"

"That you were strangling lil Shinji?"

Shinji blushed brilliantly.

"Kensuke!"

Kensuke stopped the tape. He froze it on the image of his friend, red as a tomato, looking away in embarrassment. Kensuke rewound the footage, and pressed the A-B button. He waited until Shinji said his name. He pushed the button again, creating a playback loop. In the dark closet, hunched over his video camcorder, Aida Kenuske unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection.

"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!..."

He was crouched on his knees, one hand tilting the camera display up for his eyes, the other pistoning over his crotch. His lips curled back to show teeth, gritted and hard. He panted through his nose.

"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!...Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!..."

With a final grunt he ejaculated into his palm, feeling his fingers grow slick and oily and warm. It only took him three minutes to finish. He frowned. He usually lasted longer, but the thought, the image of Shinji lying on his bed, in the dark, pleasuring himself was too strong to deny.

He sat back, watching idly as he sagged and deflated, right over the image of Shinji, turning away and blushing. Over and over. Again and again. Looped until the end of God. He waited and watched.

"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!..."

At length his hand grew cold and sticky, the fingers fixed together like Vaseline taffy. He decided on a shower.

"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Ken—"

* * *

The meeting was held at minimum twice a week. If new information or a fresh view of an old debate was discovered, the gatherings were collected by the usual underground correspondence. It gave the appearance and feel of a secret society, a clandestine assembly of like minded individuals, searching for the truth about the world.

Kensuke knew better. The group was comprised of fearful, stupid, ignorant fucks. They would watch footage of the Evas, look at pictures of the pilots, and mentally masturbate over them like it was all from an anime. There was a strange disconnect regarding people and the Angel attacks nowadays. It was treated almost as a myth, or an event occurring several millennia ago. If the masses openly accepted it, embraced it, they feared it could all happen again.

Third Impact was no doubt a large part of the terror. The end of the world. People spoke of it often, in movies, books, environmental concerns, religious fanatics… but the reality, of wiping out the entire species that ruled the planet… it was unthinkable. To cause something of that magnitude… the power of God had to be involved. God was pissed that his children had been slain, or that NERV was attacked, or that the world was going to hell.

So, the people thought, fuck God. Fuck his rules, his insane logic, his mysterious plans, his commands, his morals, his ethics, his way. Fuck him, and fuck the horse he came in on. Burn the Bible. Wipe your ass on the Koran. Jizz all over the Torah. Do anything to make sure God can't reach mankind ever again.

Bomb churches. Drive your car through a temple. Do something. Kill. Maim. Rape. Pillage. Rob. Hate. Fear. Love. Worship. Worship the abominations God hates. Worship at the altar of man and earth. Away from heaven, from hell, from righteous salvation and damnation. Forget God, forget the devil too. Because proof of one is proof of the other. Worship anything as far and remote from those bastards as you can.

Worship the Evangelion.

The damned and the damning. The closest thing to God, who stood on equal footing with the lord, and spit in his face. Who ascended to heaven, just to say "no." Who took the whole world along with them for the ride. It was a popular misconception of the petrified masses, that the cults believed the Evas were messengers of God. No. They were God's delivery boys who broke into his house and robbed him into poverty. They denounced God and his cruelty, his authority, his vicious indifference to suffering and pain. A parent who abandons his children is of no use to the offspring.

But people need something to believe in. It is ingrained within them. Hardwired in. They crave it. Because with nothing to believe in but themselves, people realize how empty and hopeless and disgusting they really are. They lose whatever spark motivates the devout, and fall into disrepair. Man is an imperfect machine. Weak, frail, fallible. No one is exempt. Humans lust for a commanding hand, an invisible conductor to direct and order. Because alone men were broken.

Reflecting on all of it, Kensuke had come to an inescapable conclusion: people were fucking morons.

Kensuke didn't worship the Evangelions. He wasn't stupid. He knew they weren't messengers of God or anything like that. They were a failed attempt to reach out and anal rape God until he decided to fork over the keys to creation. That was how he liked to think about it.

He didn't pray to the divine cult of Ayanami, or humble himself at the Ikari confessional, or jerk off over the earth Goddess Asuka. None of that appealed to him. He merely kept his association with those who did to satisfy his own sense of right and wrong. People needed to know the truth. After all the unimaginable tragedy and pain mankind had suffered through, they deserved, at the very least, to know why it happened.

Kensuke saw himself as a reluctant preacher, traveling the lands with the true Word, the truth that desperately desired dissemination. Of course, prophets were never appreciated in their own time. He only hoped his words would outlive him, and that someday, somehow, humanity would see the Eva program and NERV for what they truly were.

They weren't Gods, or devils, or anything walking the divine path. They were a sad group of human beings, fears, desires, hatreds, yearnings and wants intact. The epitome of humanity. Miserable and disgusting, but worthy of empathy. Tragically human.

Kensuke glanced around the room he was in. It was a low ceiling basement of an apartment building, filled to capacity with old boxes, broken furniture and aimless people. The cult, as it was called, was mostly an amalgamation of losers and fanatics, people with severe social problems looking for something, anything to believe in. There were a few, like Kensuke, who had actual skills and intelligence, but they were so far and few between that only those who tried to look for them found them. Kensuke was fairly adept at this point in spotting the useful members amongst the dregs. And they were all fairly adept at appreciating his importance and significance.

He was a kind of celebrity among them, having actually lived with the pilots, and been on speaking terms with them. There were a few other people who had attended the school in Tokyo-3, but he was head and shoulders above them. He knew the pilots, he knew the truth.

And he had abused his authority on occasion, usually to dispel baseless rumors, or to get a quick fuck. But that made him human. Almost as human as the people his friends worshipped. It only bothered him in his weakest of moments.

Because the good he did far outweighed the bad. He circulated the truths he saw and lived through, colored only by the passage of time and his own unchangeable scrutiny.

And they all either hated him or loved him for it. He wasn't prone to fancy, or exaggeration, or foolish imagination. His truth was not particularly spectacular, or bright, or flashy. He gave them what he had long ago come to realize. That the pilots weren't super heroes, or invincible gods. He told others about them, as they truly were, faults and failings unscathed.

Regardless of that, every one of them respected him. Begrudgingly most of the time, but it was there. Because he knew the pilots, the people they worshipped. He was there, living with them, speaking with them, existing with them. He was there.

Kensuke spotted a young woman in a corner, hotly debating something with a group of men, all wearing the telltale eyes of obsession. Kaede, another of the cultists, had an encyclopedic knowledge of the battles against the Angels, and was a fierce proponent of the Third Children, often boasting he was the best of all the pilots. She cited stats to back her claim up, declaring his untrained status as a rookie made him greater than Asuka or Rei, who had years to prepare for battle.

She could tell you in depth about any given conflict, down to time, date and armaments employed. She delighted in technical detail, and would often start debates over NERV's secret technology, wondering about the Eva's construction and the inner workings of the MAGI. She and Kensuke had hit it off immediately.

Kaede was a slim girl of twenty, with boyishly short black hair and a sharp tongue. When she spoke it was with authority, and oftentimes venom, directed towards the uninformed, and anyone who dared disagree with her. She was cute, if you could get past the temper and her fury at idiocy. Then she was sweet, and surprisingly intelligent.

Kensuke idly wondered if she'd want to fuck tonight.

Whenever they slept together, it was with the unspoken but firmly understood reality that they both fantasized the other was Ikari Shinji. More and more, Kenuske found it was the only way he could finish nowadays. When he was a teenager, the slightest whisper of sex was enough to cover his stomach in sticky goop. But recently he felt like he was running on a graduated release program. Every time he climaxed the counter ticked away, and the next time was all the harder unless he thought of his old friend.

He didn't harbor any illusions. He wasn't gay; women aroused him, not men. And yet, something about Shinji, his look, or his mannerisms, or his voice… it was something Kensuke couldn't put his finger on. It was almost primal, instinctive. All he knew was that it worked. Even if it was only for a few minutes at a time, feeling a little pleasure wasn't something he was going to beat himself up over, no matter the form.

He didn't even complain when Kaede role played. Sometimes she was a bit too eager to pretend. Even when it got too weird for Kensuke, like the time she wore her homemade plug suit, or when she told him to call her Asuka, he bent to her whims. Not because he loved her: that idea made him laugh. It was because she would eagerly listen for hours on end about the life he had led, watching the pilots perform insane stunts and impossibly heroic actions, or mundane everyday activities. She always looked like a child when he spoke to her, eyes wide with wonder and awe. That was why he liked her, why he fulfilled her every wish. Her ears may unfortunately be attached to the rest of her body, but he accepted it.

Kensuke finally caught Kaede's eyes, and she angrily gestured for him to come over. The men around her all groaned.

Adjusting his glasses carefully, he walked to the group, falling into the seductive familiarity of his comparative all-encompassing knowledge. He stood close to Kaede, and glanced over the circle of men.

They were all overweight, sweating in the hot basement, shaking their heads and muttering obscenities. All were openly hostile towards the slim girl before them.

"What seems to be the problem?" Kensuke asked.

"These jackasses keep saying Rei and Asuka 'softened up' Zeruel, and that was the only way Shinji beat it. What a load of shit. They got their asses handed to them, and yet again Shinji had to bail them out. That's what happened. Tell them, Kensuke."

He stifled the urge to laugh. Same old Kaede. Same old Kaede.

"Actually, I don't have any footage from that battle," Kensuke said. "so nearly any hypothesis is valid."

The men smirked. Kaede looked like she had just been stabbed.

"But," he went on, "if I had to make a guess, I'd say Shinji would have won, with or without Asuka and Rei's help. I have trouble recalling any foe he went up against that could withstand his fury."

"But that's my point!" one of the men blurted. He was large, balding, sitting on an empty crate. "I mean, well, seeing his friends get mutilated right in front of him had to have kicked his rage into gear, right? It had to have happened that way."

"… maybe," Kaede relented. "But that only proves my original point. That the girls were useless without Shinji. If he wasn't there to clean up after them they would have been killed every time. I mean, truthfully, was he or was he not the deciding factor in every sortie against the Angels? Well? Guys?"

The men fell to muttering, their eyes darting everywhere but Kaede. She seemed to realize the debate was over, and turned away shrugging in gracious victory: she was well acquainted with winning, and learned to take it in stride. That way it made a repeat performance easier to swallow for the group at large.

"You're on notice, mister," Kaede said, poking Kensuke in the ribs as they walked away. "How could you resist the chance to swoop in and save me like a hero?"

"Save you? It looked more like those guys needed my help from where I was standing."

"I was just having a little fun. Is that a crime? No, I didn't think so. Besides, those dicks needed to hear the truth for once. I am sick and tired of all the horny losers around here that ignore the facts of Shinji's strength and ability just because he isn't an exotic foreigner or an albino. Like Asuka and Rei were so hot anyways. Guys are such simple bastards."

"I'm not debating that." He nodded towards the front of the basement, where a man was setting up a projector. "They're about to start the movie up. Have any interest in watching?"

"What are they showing? The bootleg Ramiel footage? I've seen that a million times. And I don't want to be dragged into yet another debate over anti-gravity drill bits. I've made peace with the fact that there will be certain aspects of the war I'll never be satisfied with. Ramiel's workings is one of them. I don't know how it worked, merely that it did."

The lights in the basement dimmed by degrees, until it adopted the look of a movie theater. Soon the front screen was flashing color and sound. Kensuke leaned down to whisper in Kaede's right ear.

"I met with an informant Tuesday night," he began.

"Can you trust the source? I don't want another fiasco like that douche bag who said he had Asuka's neural connectors in his attic because I can tell you right now—"

"I can trust him. Well, I mean I can trust he's telling me the truth. As to his character…" He shook his hand slightly. "But what you should really be asking me is, what did he tell you?"

"… well?" Kaede prompted when he fell silent. "What? Tell me!"

"Sorry. It isn't everyday I have the chance to tell someone I know where Ikari Shinji is."

"_What did you say?_"

"Keep it down," Kensuke whispered harshly. His hands waved off a number of curious onlookers, and he quickly ushered Kaede to the back of the basement, where a few scattered groups were quietly discussing topics unrelated to the film.

"You have _got_ to be fucking _shitting_ me. There is _no_ fucking _way_—"

"You asked me if I could trust the informant. I do." He glanced over his shoulder. Everyone else was still watching the screen. "Well, I trust the info he gave me. I wouldn't trust him farther than I could throw him. But he knew stuff. I mean, stuff no one should know. And he gave me the name and address of the doctor who's seeing Shinji right now."

"The doctor?" Kaede was practically hopping in place she was so excited.

"A kid named Kirishima." Kensuke stopped to wipe perspiration from his upper lip. "She interviewed me a month or two ago, remember? I told you about her. Well, she's still on the case, but it's getting down to the wire. They have Shinji on a very tight schedule, and they change doctors and safe houses pretty often. He's up to be moved to a new doctor in the next week, meaning—"

"It's now or never." Her hands were shaking. "This is unbelievable. This is absolutely unbelievable. I can't believe it."

"Believe it. He gave me Kirishima's home and schedule, so it's just a matter of tailing her and getting a good opportunity."

"Well," Kaede said, "that explains how we find him. How do we get him out? Feeling some of your old military whiz kid proficiency coming back?"

Kensuke shrugged.

"What good is a cult if we can't partake in some apocalyptic behavior?" he asked. "We obviously can't tell everyone here. That would be bedlam. Actually, I've already put the team together, I just have to tell them."

"You mean…" Kaede licked her lips hastily. "You mean you told me first?" she asked in a very small voice.

"Well… yeah, I guess I did. I—"

She jumped to her tiptoes and kissed him hard. It was a kiss devoid of the usual sexual undertone he associated with her embraces. This was pure, uninhibited gratitude.

And as quickly as it began, it ended. She pulled away, her eyes shining.

"I can't believe this," she whispered excitedly.

"Believe it."

Kensuke bit off the rest of the words that were threatening to spill from his lips. That he honestly considered this to be the reason he returned. To do what they were about to do. To set him free.

He would risk his life, just for the chance to attempt this. To see him again. To see him liberated. Because Shinji, out of everyone at NERV, didn't deserve imprisonment and disgrace. He fought even when it hurt him, killed him, and without the training or preparation the other pilots had. Without the vendetta the commanders harbored, without the blind obedience to authority the staff was home to. He was a normal boy, beaten and trampled under the weight of adult vengeance and grudges until his innocence was torn away like a cheap veil. And still he fought. Despite his own pain, and all the injustices inflicted against him, he still fought.

Kenuske might not have the power to set everything right, or wash away the sins of yesterday, or even solve the problems facing them today.

But he had within his grasp the chance to free the one man in this entire broken world who deserved to be free. The man who fought and died, and fought again for his sake, for Kaede's sake, for the sake of every other meaningless human being on the planet. They weren't worthy to be in his presence, breathe the same air, live the same life, but if Kensuke could build a bridge with his broken body for Shinji to cross and be liberated from pain and loneliness, he would, without hesitation.

This was his mission, his charge. His primary function. To see him again, to fulfill the dream he had carried with him for nearly a decade. Destiny, fate, whatever name he gave it, it remained immutably the same. Purpose. The reason he climbed out of bed in the morning, the reason he kept up correspondence with these people, the reason he was who he was today. It was all for Shinji, because of Shinji, by Shinji. And he would do anything he could to repay the favor. He saved Kensuke, and soon he'd be able to say the same. He was going to save Ikari Shinji.

"See you soon, Shinji-kun."

* * *

End of interlude

Author note: next chapter should be up in a week or so. But don't hold me to it. And I still like how obsessed Kensuke is. And sorry. He just kept saying fuck. Granted, _I_ love that word, but I didn't plan on Ken using it so often. Sorry. And I'll try real hard to explain all the inconsistencies and plot holes by the end of this fic. So, by chapter 10 or 11. I'm planning on an epilogue, too, so don't crucify me until everything is out, okay? Thanks.


	9. Chapter 8

I Knew Him When chapter 8

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: keep suspending that disbelief. I do not own Evangelion

* * *

Suicide is not a spur of the moment decision. It is not a whim or a passing fancy that those facing setbacks turn to in order to gain relief. While relief may be a motivating factor, it is not the final determining cause.

From the outside, to those who cannot grasp why anyone would willingly stop their own life, it is a cry for help, a desperate plea come too late. It is a thing of vocal confusion and quiet personal horror. It shakes the ingrained belief that life is a precious gift to be enjoyed, despite history and human nature.

For the survivors it is a tragic impulse for the weak and selfish, those not strong enough to face life's challenges and obstacles. It is a senseless loss, a cry in the dark. It destroys happiness and routine. It weakens desire and verve. And throughout it all, the questions remain:

How could they do that?

Did you know they were suffering so much?

What could we have done to help them?

Why?

Because. It is the ultimate because, the critical decision, the last last. The final gasp of selfishness in a drowning tide of pain and misery on a tortuous and Godless hunk of rock hurtling through the dark void of space. Because once you realize that, that there is no glorious secret meaning to existence, that there is no benevolent loving entity cradling our broken spirits, it doesn't matter if you die. The how and when become meaningless and trivial. All that matters, all that becomes material and important is the why. The why do you continue, and the why do you stop.

Why do you gaze longingly at the razor, yet never put it to your skin?

Why do you smile sadly at the pomp of a funeral?

Why are you afraid to go to sleep and hate waking up?

Why?

Why not?

Suicide is a state of being. It is a constant mindset, a creeping reminder throughout the mundane realities of everyday life. It is not a glaring revelation, but a gradual dawning. It is something to be reached by thought, and careful decision, and subdued acceptance. It is a path, a means to an end. The ultimate end.

It is not a course one chooses lightly, or in moments of extreme anguish. The moments can plant the seed, but it is a sustained coexistence with pain and fear and hate that bear the fruit.

And Ikari Shinji knew all of it. He knew it since he was a child, since his mother was swallowed by that false God, since his father left him to murder the rest of the human race, since he stood on that abandoned street and saw Ayanami Rei beneath a flutter of birds' wings, since he saw Ayanami Rei standing on a sheet of blood in the sea.

More importantly, he knew it, he lived it, as the Asuka he thought he knew fell away from him, little by little. It made him sad at first, in those lonely days on the beach. He saw what was happening and he could not think of a single thing he could offer to help her. He would cry for her sometimes. And then he would cry again when he realized she had no clue why he was crying in the first place.

But the tears dissolved as they always did and it was usurped by hate, as it always was.

He hated Asuka for leaving him. He hated her for being able to collapse into her own mind where it was safe and comfortable and unimaginably horrific. He hated Ayanami for making him choose. He hated her for leaving him alone on a world he killed. He hated Misato for forcing him to grow up. He hated her for the terrible reflection she made him see whenever he looked at her. He hated Kaworu for who he was. He hated him for loving him. He hated his father for letting that child who was called Shinji die. He hated his mother for ever allowing him to exist. He hated her for ever existing.

He hated every one of them for making him take their lives.

_So they can go ahead and die._

Murder is an incessant rodent gnawing on one's mind. Every time you think you've trapped and exterminated it, two more slip free from your grasp and resume the gradual erosion of your self respect and sanity. And as they go, they drag along many other things as well. Happiness, hope, desire, pleasure, enjoyment, wishes, trust and expectation… the will to continue living what others call life.

Shinji knew it all. He knew it because after living with it for so long he finally felt enough disgust with himself, enough self hatred and self loathing that he could do something about it. He could finally hold the razor to his wrists and do more than press it into the flesh to leave a shallow indentation. He could finally abandon the pretense of hope and humanity and see himself for what he truly was.

He was a worthless, vile, wretched, sick, disgusting, perverted, perverse, pathetic, selfish, diseased, ugly, two-faced, lying, cheating, stupid, weak, sad, useless, murderous, cowardly _thing_ and it was time to stop clinging to the lie that for so long sustained him in a state of perpetual suffering and static existence. The term human was too good for him. Even though humans were atrocious, monstrous beasts without any redeeming quality, he was far worse. He had a chance, an opportunity to make things better, to allow for a change from the crawling hell of earth and he threw it away for what… for pride? For hope? For a false desire given to him under a damnable illusion. What did he think would change?

What the fuck did he think would change?

Humanity didn't change. Humanity never changed. History was nothing but a long, endlessly repeating line of butchery, murder and hate. There was nothing worth saving, nothing worth preserving for the future, save the unshakable knowledge that it should not continue. Even though all men died, it was too little, too late. And Shinji was just a cog in the machine.

_But I had a chance._

He had a chance, and he squandered it. Did he deserve praise for choosing life over nameless existence? Did rejecting Instrumentality make him special? Braver? Heroic? A man?

It made him a fool. He had a chance, and now he was being punished for wasting it. Forever and ever. This was his hell.

It made him, for the first time in his life, actively care about when he died, because he finally accepted the truth that he should not be alive. The fear of death, the selfish needs and desires that colored his living existence, the self righteous ire at his being, all were swept away under the immense tide of crushing remorse and culpability.

Of course, for one who knows what comes next, the vast endless sea of collapse, guilt becomes little more than a trifling inconvenience. Nothing but a bothersome nuisance to burden his life until the absolution of death.

But he knew there was no paradise waiting for him. There was nothing but after existence. And he couldn't achieve even that barest of goals. A failure, at everything he tried. And nothing would ever change that.

Ikari Shinji sighed as he noticed the time. He stood up from the floor of his small bathroom and pulled the sleeves of his shirt down past his scarred wrists.

He carefully replaced the plastic razor inside the medicine cabinet, next to the singularly packaged sleeping pills the army issued him, and stared at his reflection as the mirrored door closed. He didn't recognize the face that stared back. It was long and lean, with dark hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. His hair fell carelessly over his brow, thin and brittle. His shoulders were hunched and bent forward, creating a kind of bowl on his chest.

He didn't recognize the face, the image, but he knew who it was. This was Shinji. This was what Shinji had turned into. This was the beast that remained to breathe, to speak, to feel, to live. To be punished. This was all that was left.

This was all.

This… this was…

"This is your punishment."

* * *

Mana opened the small box containing her dinner. Nothing special, just rice and a little shrimp, plain, unseasoned. She didn't like to dilute the natural flavors when she ate if she could help it. Living so long on instant made it hard, but she indulged in the practice on the rare occasions she did cook for herself. She smiled softly as she popped a tiny shrimp in her mouth.

She was in her office, forgoing the cafeteria and the crowds. It had become a ritual of sorts. Ever since the Ikari investigation began, she had been swamped with all of the previous files and reports of the doctors who came before her, and she often worked late into the night, not returning home until the moon was nearly gone.

And instead of suspending her work for a meal, she started preparing her own food to eat in her office, still reading the backlog of studies, working straight through lunch, and often times, like tonight, dinner as well. Not that she got a lot accomplished, but it made her feel better.

Taper was gingerly applying pressure on her for at the very least a preliminary report regarding Ikari. No doubt trying to bolster his own position with his superiors, but Mana had long ago made peace with hidden drives in human beings. She was, after all, a former covert agent.

And despite her job, despite her background and position within the military, a tiny nagging part of her felt like she was betraying Shinji by telling people what they talked about. It was, of course, ridiculous, but Mana never believed herself cut out for this work. She couldn't help but feel like she had made a genuine connection with Shinji, and that somehow she should fight to preserve it. 

Including delaying the final report for as long as possible. Besides, the next doctor who interviews him might not possess her generously compassionate nature.

It was a hot night, and Mana left her office door open, hoping to catch a breeze from the central air vents. And to clear her space a bit. With her door closed the room was humid and sticky, despite the air conditioning.

And while it did amplify the noise of the surrounding offices and conference halls and traffic, nearly everyone knew by now to leave her in peace while she worked. Not that the fate of the world depended on her putting together a coherent picture of ten years ago, but they knew she could get a little scary when angry. They had learned early on to give her a liberal amount of space, and it eventually drifted into their treatment of her outside of work, too.

It was something Mana didn't like to think about too often. She didn't have a lot of people she could call friend. Her job discouraged her from getting attached to anyone, promoting professional detachment over genuine compassion and sympathy. Even the training she received when she was a child was carefully designed to avoid connections and friendship. Most of the military's lessons took hold when she was young, before she could find her own voice. And very little had changed over the years.

Even when she did go out drinking or dancing with people from the base, it was with a certain aloofness between everyone invited. Not that she disliked anyone to a drastic degree, but there was a professionalism no one could distance themselves from. Not out of spite, just a lifetime of ingrained ethics and control.

It was tiring, and frustrating, but it was the life she had chosen. There was no turning back now. She was in too deep. No one could throw her a life preserver even if she asked for it.

"Knock, knock," a soft voice wafted in from the hall.

Mana glanced up, not really angry at the intrusion, after all she had her door open, but most people knew to leave her alone when she was working. She surprised herself by actually being pleased with who was in her door.

"Asari," she said with a smile. "It feels like ages since I saw you last. Still under the heel of Seki in admissions?"

"Where else would I be?" He gave her his gentle grin. "Though it still astounds me this is where I am today. A far cry from what I was trained for."

"I know. I ask myself what I'm doing here every day. This desk is as close as I'll ever get to piloting again. I know I shouldn't be bitter; I'm a lot safer here. It's just… I don't know. I don't think I'm cut out for this job."

"I disagree," Asari said. "You always were the compassionate one out of our little group. I think it was a natural evolution for you to do what you're doing. Being a doctor, trying to help people… it makes perfect sense to me."

"Less than a minute and you're already flattering me. You're shameless."

Asari, like Musashi, was an old comrade from her glory days as a giant robot pilot. It wasn't just luck that found the three of them under the same base's roof. The military brass, ever the bastion of common sense, decided their old team should be close together, just in the off chance their old training should ever be needed again. Not that giant mechs were a staple of the army, but with the insanity of the Evangelion still like a shallow cut in the public's psyche, it was best to have every possible contingency at the ready, just in case.

And while not everything they dredged up for her was pleasant, they really were two of the only people Mana considered close to being friends.

That struck her as incredibly depressing.

"You have your final report to Taper coming up, right?" Asari asked. He borrowed a chair in front of her desk and sat in it. He had impeccable posture. "About Ikari?"

"Yeah," Mana said, feeling dramatic. She stretched out over her cluttered desk. "Taper's trying to be nice about it, like it'll somehow affect my image of him, but he's really starting to hound me. He says it's just his job, and that I shouldn't take it personal or read anything into it, but he knows the complaints I have with this line of work. I don't know why he thinks this time should be any different."

"Ever the optimist."

Asari opened his mouth to say more, but stopped and cocked his head to the side. He peered closely at her.

"Wh… what?" Mana asked him.

"Do you have a new boyfriend?"

"What?" she sputtered. "What the hell does that—"

"No, sorry. Just… sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Just, well, you look… a little glowy. I thought that maybe…" He shrugged. "Sorry. Don't pay it any mind."

Mana seethed. She forgot that with his puppy dog eyes, his calm way of speaking, his self effacing mannerisms… it was impossible to stay mad at Asari. The bastard.

"I don't have time for a boyfriend," she grumbled. "You should know that. I'm busy. Any extra time I do have I use for work. I don't fritter it away on some man."

"Oh. But…" He smiled warily. "Well, you are kind of spending your free time on a man." He gestured to the files that lay strewn over her desk.

"… go to hell."

"No, really," Asari said, still calm and relaxed. "Didn't you always talk about him when we were kids? The famous Ikari Shinji who killed Angels with a sweep of his hand? Who saved the world while we were still being trained how to turn on our mechs?"

"You've been hanging around with Musashi again, haven't you?" Mana waved him away. "Listen. Maybe I was a little star-struck when I was younger, but I'm an adult now. I have a real job. I don't squander my days sitting in a cramped cockpit or seducing little boys. I have important things to do."

"Taper's really giving you a hard time, huh?" he asked. He frowned in sympathy. "He always did ride you harder than other people. You're his favorite."

"You have been hanging around Musashi. Not a trend I encourage. But you can go ahead and report back to him that I'm fine, just a little swamped at the moment. And no, I don't need help, or people 

hovering over me like a damn pack of flies. I repeat: this is my job. I'm used to it. Loneliness, fatigue, pressure from the top and regimental politics included."

"Things are that bad?"

"Just… a little pressing right now," she sighed. "I feel like I'm getting pulled in twenty different directions at once. And all for the sake of bullying a broken man who probably doesn't have anything of genuine importance to tell us. At least, not what the brass is hoping for."

"Well," Asari said, "_have_ you found out anything useful?"

"I—"

She paused, the words stuck crawling out of her mouth. She bit them back down.

There was a moment for Mana, late last night, when she realized who Kaworu was. What he was. He was the last Angel. It struck her like a revelation. Shinji said he was someone he killed. In his hand. Then he murdered every other human. The Impact.

Kaworu was the last Angel before the Impact.

Mana couldn't even begin to fathom it. An Angel, capable of human speech, let alone emotion? Was it in human form? It had to be. Shinji spoke of it as a "he." Someone who loved him.

_The last Angel was a human._

She did not know how to process the information. It upset her beyond any rational dissemination. It was a primal terror like the dark or the unknown. Angels were giant monstrosities, as tall as buildings and as powerful as hurricanes. To have all of that horror and strength in a flimsy human form…

Did the other Angels think? Were they capable of human intelligence? Speech? Were the only differences between humans and Angels size and appearance?

She didn't fully realize it, but these were incredibly dangerous ideas. But if there was one thing Kirishima Mana was skilled at, it was obscuring not quite safe ideas and information. And somehow, she knew the fewer lower level personnel who knew about this, the better.

"Sorry," she told Asari with a shrug. "I can't tell you anything."

"A pity."

"Yeah. But at least you won't chew me out for it. Taper's gonna have my ass."

"Probably, yeah."

"Shouldn't you be tending to my spirit? Or my wounded ego?"

"I'm already in one codependent relationship at this base," Asari said. "I won't be dragged into another."

"Okay," Mana said through a laugh. "Give my best to Musashi." She waved him goodbye and dove back into the mountain of files on her desk.

"… staying here all night?" he asked under her door, gesturing to the clock on the wall that silently displayed the ripe hour of nine twenty one. "I only passed by here on my way out."

"I'll be along in a minute," she said, still waving goodbye. "Don't wait up."

It was ten fifty-seven when Mana locked her office door. Not a record, especially lately, but enough to make Asari shake his head sadly, or make Musashi get dramatic.

And she knew that her dedication and fervor for this case was in large part due to her past. Nothing she hadn't told herself before. But maybe enough repetition would make it less questionable.

She left the base quickly and sped home. The streets were nearly empty, and Mana felt like the last woman on earth. It was late; everyone who had a family was already home with them. Times like this made Mana slightly more depressed than usual. It only reinforced the reality that she was alone. But the seemingly monumental effort and work that a relationship required kept her pleased to be single.

Still, she felt a pang of self pitying disappointment when she unlocked the front door to her apartment and nothing but empty darkness greeted her return.

She showered, washed away the grime and headache of the day, and collapsed into bed. The novel sitting on her nightstand, the one she perennially tried to get through but never did, suddenly struck her as incredibly stupid. It was a sweeping love story set in the seventeen-hundreds, the kind where the protagonist's biggest obstacle is which handsome suitor to marry, or how to spend their obscene inheritance. Still, it was a vice. A guilty pleasure for her in a world full of enduring displeasures. But even flowery escapism was too much of an effort tonight. She turned her lamp on as she hit her pillow.

When she laid her head down to sleep, when her eyes slipped shut, when the conscious world became misty and obscured, she dreamed. It was the same nightmare every time. She watched her body melt and become something thick and viscous, and her thoughts slowly marched from her head in disorganized columns until nothing but direct observation filled her. And then the alien ideas came rushing in. Millions and millions of thoughts that weren't her own, that filled her past the breaking point, that assaulted and raped and ruined. It hurt so much. It hurt, and she could not wake up. She could never wake up.

* * *

Mana was late for their appointment the next day. She had never been late before, and it was strangely irritating for Shinji that she was. It was sad to him, how easily he would adapt to a schedule, and how difficult it was to break from it. But for the past decade he had little else except immutable routine. And for better or worse Mana was a part of it now.

She hurried up the narrow path from the driveway to the front door, surreptitiously glancing over the guards who dotted the compound. And again she was struck with a truth that had bothered her since day one.

Ikari Shinji was an invaluable asset. Given that, it never failed to amaze Mana at the size of the security detail assigned to guard him. Granted they were in spitting distance of a soldier checkpoint, but the actual number of men stationed at Ikari's house was the bare minimum. It couldn't be a favor to him, or to ease his discomfort. It was for a reason Mana couldn't fathom. Even with the several other aspects of this case that made absolutely no sense to her, that detail would rush to greet her every time she visited.

And it wasn't like this was a rotational depot where soldiers spent brief tours of duty before transferring out to some other unique position. This was an established post, with a clear chain of command and deployment. This wasn't a shady, run down location where bad soldiers went to fade into obscurity.

So what reason did the higher-ups have for skirting this responsibility?

Again, Mana thought, Ikari Shinji was an invaluable asset. So why was he placed in a private house by himself away from the main base where he could be questioned with less of a hassle? Why wasn't he in a military prison, where he'd be at the beck and call of the brass with far fewer hindrances? For that matter, why was Soryu free, and Aoba, and Aida, and Suzahara? What was the military thinking?

Mana didn't have the luxury of debating her superiors' wisdom. All she had was the job set before her: completing that was the closest she'd ever get to the truth. She realized she'd never learn everything about the Evangelions, or the Angels, or the shadowy secrets of NERV. It was a truth she'd accepted long ago. Because despite her job, the task her commanders gave her, Mana knew they wanted to limit this knowledge to as few people as possible. Information, knowledge, was more of a weapon than ever before. And the smaller the group that held it, the smaller the chance of a repeated tragedy was.

That reasoning never sat well with Mana. The popular theory held that if the smallest possible set of men knew the truth about NERV, it would be easier to keep them in line, and in turn keep the populace under control, too.

She couldn't say she agreed. After a lifetime spent in the military, Mana knew that no matter how few people knew something, the knowledge would be used eventually. It was only a matter of time. Fewer people meant nothing but fewer disagreements. If the technology existed, so did the will to use it.

And she could only guess how the higher-ups would employ the information she had just found out.

Kaworu was the last Angel.

Mana distracted herself from that disturbing reality by organizing the questions she wanted to ask Shinji. Specifically, what impact the attacks had on him, beyond the obvious dose of terror a life and death struggle against a giant monster entails. She wanted to know how he dealt with risking his life on a weekly basis, how feeling a colossus' life slowly get crushed away in your hand affected him. He didn't have the drained innocence of the other Children. All Shinji had was whatever he could manage to hold on to through luck and self control. He didn't have any kind of military training. He didn't know how to cope with endangering his own existence.

More to the point, he didn't know how to justify taking someone else's life. And while she didn't consider an Angel anything but an Angel, no matter what form it stole, Shinji obviously did not share her view. It wasn't a weakness, per say, but it called into question how he handled the rest of the attacks, before Kaworu.

"I can't imagine what combat in a giant robot was like," Mana opened, sitting down across from him.

"… you can't?" Shinji asked.

"Well… training for it and actually doing it are two different things. Besides, ah, my previous employment isn't common knowledge. Most of the time I forget it ever happened."

"… I have trouble believing that."

"Okay then. Humor me."

"It was… it was probably exactly what you might expect it to be," Shinji said. "I don't know what kind of system the military had, but piloting the Evangelion was like wearing a very heavy full body suit. Like your pants and shirt were weighted, or made with steel cables instead of thread. After awhile you learn how much force to exert, how much to hold back. As you can imagine, it made fighting a little difficult.

"Combat was like chess. It was relatively simple to learn, but it could take years and years to get good at it. By the end of the attacks, I would probably be considered an intermediate."

"Intermediate?" Mana asked immediately. She couldn't help it. "I've gone over the battles many times, Shinji-san, and I have trouble believing you were an 'intermediate.'"

"I was lucky," he said simply. "I was very lucky. So much so, it was like… an ability. And," he continued quickly, "an Evangelion runs depending on many different variables, some of which are influenced by the pilot. Anger is, often times, favorable. And I was a very angry little boy."

She decided to let that one slip. She supposed the less said about the Third Children's temper, the better. She moved on.

"So emotional states could affect the Evangelion," she said. "Did the Angels ever exhibit anything like that?"

"… you mean, did they ever achieve a state similar to… berserker?" Shinji glanced away. "The Angels, if you had to attach human attributes to them, were very calm. They carried out their attacks like it was a duty, and we were merely obstacles. The only one that was… different… was the one that possessed Touji's unit. That Angel… it wasn't merely aggressive, it was violently hostile. I can only assume it was because it had a human inside it."

"The Thirteenth," Mana said. "That was the only Angel you could see a difference with? The only one that attacked you in an unusual way?"

"No two Angels really attacked the same way, but the goal was the same. The paths they chose to take to get there may differ, but in the end they were after the same thing."

"And what was that? What were they after?"

"The end of mankind," Shinji said simply.

_Well that's… blunt_. Mana glanced away. She supposed that was close enough to the truth. Angels didn't visit the city for picnics.

"Do you know why so many of the Angels attacked Tokyo-3?" she asked. She waited and watched him closely, gauging his reaction and answer.

Shinji remained calm, not gasping in surprise or showing anything remotely close to shock. He didn't seem upset in the least.

"No," he said.

Mana covered a fatigued sigh by scratching her nose. Another dead-end. Maybe he really didn't know. Maybe it was time to admit there would be aspects of the war she'd never learn the truth about. That no one would ever learn the truth about. She reminded herself that she was the latest in a long line. Dozens of doctors, more qualified and smarter than she, had been right where she was now before her, and all of them had failed. This little dance went on unhindered by the truth, and it would continue long after she left.

Shinji was keeping what he knew close to him, and for what purpose? Was he that selfish? That smug? Was hiding the truth his way of striking back at the military that kept him locked away like a caged animal?

No, that didn't fit him. Mana realized he had a few unresolved anger issues, but revenge, even a private one, was outside the boundary of what she had come to expect from him. And she liked to think she knew him fairly well, despite the fact he was under arrest, she was a doctor interrogating him, and no one in her position had ever succeeded before her in drawing him out of his self-imposed shell.

_Still,_ Mana thought, _I bet I've gotten closer than anyone else._

Inexplicably, she felt like a kid again. Meeting him, talking with him, learning about him… her mission really hadn't changed all that much. With a dose of regret, she realized she hadn't changed that much either. Still the old obedience to authority, the unchanged ethic to succeed. Just an upgraded version. But she wasn't judging herself right now.

Shinji, from what she knew and read about him, didn't appear too different, either. So, why? What did he hope to accomplish by staying silent?

She looked at him. Still the same tall, thin features, still the same dark eyes… still the same. So why did he seem so… tired in comparison to the last interview? It was similar to the fatigue someone had after getting something big off their chest, but none of the associated relief was present in Shinji. He looked dead on his feet.

It frightened her. In all the previous reports she read, the doctors identified this change in attitude, this calmness and resignation, as when he began to gradually siphon off all useful information. Like tightening a leaky faucet. She had finally hit the wall.

"Which Angel was the most difficult for you, personally?" she asked out of the blue.

"They were all difficult. I don't waste time ranking them like sport stars." There was no evasion in his voice. Just tired truth.

"Certainly," Mana went on, "some must have been harder than others. And as you spent more time training, the Evangelion must have seemed easier to manipulate, right?"

"Practice didn't make me perfect. It merely made me less bad. Battles were won many times through sheer luck." Shinji saw her taking a breath in preparation to ask another question, and spoke first. "None of the Angels were ever easy. Let's just leave it at that."

"Um… 'leave it at that'?" She quirked a smile. "In case you forgot, I'm supposed to be interviewing you about all aspects of the war. 'Leaving it at that' isn't an option."

"I suppose not." He slowly looked around the living room, his eyes falling on a small clock mounted on the far wall by a bookcase. He watched the hands move for a moment, like he was waiting for something. He sighed.

"Shinji-san…?"

There was a large bay window behind Shinji's chair, shuttered and draped. It made the living room appear bigger than it really was, and with the cluttered bookshelves lining the walls, the window looked a touch out of place. Almost like an optical illusion.

Which was why Mana was so surprised when a heavy object broke through the glass and clattered to the floor near their feet.

"What the…?" Her mouth ejected words before her mind could process them.

A canister about the size of a soda lay in a halo of broken glass on the floor. She heard a commotion outside, a hissing, shouts. Chaos. Panic. Raid.

_We're under attack…!_

Mana spun on Shinji. He was right where she left him, sitting placidly in his chair, watching the attack unfold with tepid curiosity. He looked like this sort of thing happened all the time.

"Shinji-san!"

Then the top of the canister split apart like an overripe orange, spilling whitish smoke out into the room with dogged resolution.

Shinji's interest remained lukewarm.

Mana opened her mouth to yell at him again, to try and make him act like a rational human being, but all she found when she inhaled before screaming was gas.

It filled her mouth like liquid. It sat heavily on her tongue, and all she could taste was electric metal shavings. She tried to cough, to spit it out, and all she heard was a sound. She couldn't feel the functions of her body anymore. All they were now were noises. Her feet on the floor, just sound. Her hands flailing out to grab furniture, dull clunks. Her legs tripping over her toes, swipes of cloth.

"Shinji-san!" someone yelled.

It might have been her. She wasn't sure. It didn't sound like her, but it might just be her throat closing like a vice. She coughed again. Her eyes cast left and right in a panic, but everything began to bleed together. Her eyes burned. It felt like her head was in a blazing vice, pushing down on her cheeks and mouth and eyes. Her face threatened to cave in.

"Shinji… san…"

With a miraculous effort she managed to turn back around and locate him. He was slouched peacefully in his chair, like he was getting ready to sleep.

"Shi…"

With her last vestige of strength she pitched sideways, landing hard on her shoulder, nothing but a thump. Her head tilted down awkwardly to the floor, and then her eyes crawled behind her lids, and she could sense nothing but the cold black that wrapped her like a shroud.

"… nji…"

Was the last thread of thought weaved in her mind, drifting away into the stinging nothing waiting just behind her conscious self. She fell, and kept falling. Down, down, deep into blurry shadows that swallowed her whole, deep into a barbed haze of dark that wrapped her limbs and body in prickly cold. Down, down, ripped away from thought and action, down, to a blank grasping nothing.

Mana kept falling.

* * *

End of Chapter 8

Author notes: yeah, yeah, the section with Asari was nothing but filler to lengthen this update. But who cares?

I have to say it. I like how freaking clueless Mana was in this chapter. Heh.

Also: I know the end of this chapter was a little weak and convenient. It's partly my awful action writing ability, partly events that happened off-screen. But I'll reveal all next chapter!

… which will probably be a while.


	10. Chapter 9

I Knew Him When chapter 9

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion

Pre-note: this is a long one. About ten thousand words. Just be prepared.

* * *

Mana struggled out of unconsciousness.

She was lying on her side, something cold and hard pressing against her cheek. It was vibrating, every few seconds jumping up and driving into her face.

She slowly tensed her muscles, one at a time, starting with her neck, working her way down to her toes. Whatever that gas had been did its job. She felt like an isolated head, the rest of her body tingly and slightly numbed. Even her eyes felt cold, and there was a strange delay between moving them and receiving images. It made her want to throw up. But she continued to try and visually confirm where she was. Bumping, jostling, sedation and loss of muscular control intact.

As she adjusted to the lull of her eyes, she realized she was in a van. She could see the twin windows on the back doors above her head, both covered by a heavy canvas. The sloping walls colliding into the ceiling, rusty, chipped, torn. The wheel well by her cheek, jumping up and down as the vehicle rolled over the road. She felt seasick, and wondered if it was possible to vomit while still being under the effects of gas.

Her body still refused her commands. She couldn't turn her head to see behind her, or even call out to see if Shinji was here with her.

_Idiot._

Of course Shinji was with her. He was what they were after. It had to be him. Mana hadn't made any enemies outside of that dry cleaner guy who shrank her uniform, and the most good she could do anyone was to reveal the startling secret of her much-envied rice balls. No one would want to kidnap her.

_And yet, here I am, being kidnapped._

Mana tried to sigh. Shinji had to be the target. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But why on earth would they take her, too? Pragmatically, Mana felt they probably should have killed her. They were assaulting a government controlled facility, stealing an invaluable asset, and they were skittish about shooting someone?

_Must be amateurs._

Or they wanted to control the flow of information that originated from Shinji. And by extension, control everyone who came into contact with him. Meaning Mana was on their to-do list. Either interrogation, torture, or elimination. Or some fun combination of the three. She'd find out soon enough.

The van stopped. Mana tried to estimate how long she had been conscious, added to the amount of time the gas had knocked her out, to approximate how far from the safe house they were. At least an hour. But that estimate was, to be fair, a load. She admitted to herself she could be nearly anywhere by now.

She heard car doors open and shut, and then feet chewing the earth on their way to the back of the van. Mana tried to flip onto her back to view the rest of the vehicle. She tried, and failed.

"S…h… sh…"

Still couldn't speak. Still couldn't move. Helpless.

"Sh… Shhhii…"

_Shit._

Mana heard a key being inserted into the lock on the back door. The familiar rumble of tumblers fitting into place, then the squeak of metal as it opened. Sunlight slapped her face and she had to shut her eyes.

Sunlight. It was still day. Judging from the split second view of the sun she had Mana deduced it was twilight. Meaning it had been nearly five hours since her interview with Shinji. Five hours in a non-descript van, running fast from safety and security. Ikari Shinji was now out in the open. Mana swore again.

Logically, she knew it wasn't her fault. The security team around the safe house had obviously been asleep. And yet, a part of her, a large part, assumed responsibility. She was the doctor assigned to him. She was the only one speaking with him. She was trained to kill, to protect, to spy, to do so many things, and she failed. Again.

Shame flooded her. She was a failed spy, and now a failed doctor too.

_Shit._

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the sunlight. But she could finally see two men, one tall and thin, one heavyset and wide in every aspect of his being, standing between the opened doors of the van. They were talking, but there was a holdup from what they said to when Mana heard it. Fuzzy, like a bad watercolor painting.

And try as she might, their faces remained blurry splotches sitting on their necks. But she kept her head up, her eyes open, hoping they'd clear soon.

The men still talked, occasionally casting glances at Mana. After a time they approached her, and carefully lifted her from the van. She could not feel their hands on her, and did not care to. Her entire focus was on forcing her head to flop backwards to view the rest of the vehicle's cargo hold. With a monumental effort that left her seeing spots and feeling even more light-headed, her eyes fell on Shinji. He was lying, apparently unconscious, facing the wall. His legs and arms were curled close to his body, and he, like her she just realized, was shackled too.

And then he vanished from her sight as the men led her from the van, while another moved to the back from a car behind her. Mana's eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. They were in an alley behind a weathered building, littered with stained dumpsters and boxes. There were a few other vehicles parked irregularly on the grey street, but no other people passed them. Though it was late in the day Mana was on her own. Alone. No one to help, no one to see her being hauled by two strange men and think, "what the hell?"

_Shit._

Mana's mind was quickly gaining lucidity, but all she could think of were swears. She was in a very, very bad situation. Persons unknown had successfully stolen Ikari Shinji from a secure military post for an unidentified purpose. There was no evidence the army was in any kind of hot pursuit, judging from the rather relaxed manner the men were acting. And Mana was most likely on her way to be killed.

She wanted to shut her eyes, to rest her vision and feel sorry for herself. But she had to take in as much as she could on the off chance she'd survive and escape. As slim as that seemed right now.

But through her fears and worries over herself, her position, and the military that would most likely hold her responsible if she was ever rescued, one thought surfaced to force all others to the murky edges of her conscious mind.

Ikari Shinji was no longer safe.

_Shit._

* * *

It took another half hour for the gas to wear off. And even then Mana's muscles still felt like lead weights, and her tongue a warm slug crawling behind her teeth. Even if she could have walked under her own power, her ankles and wrists were still locked tight with handcuffs. The two men from the van all but carried her into a small apartment building through the service entrance in the rear, and up to a room on the third floor.

It was low rent and it showed. People with jobs and self-respect didn't live here. Paint peeling off the walls like dead skin, anomalous stains littering the floors, empty bottles strewn like rocks on a beach, doors bearing scars and holes… this wasn't where Mana expected to be taken after a successful assault on a military safe house. She thought it might have been the Americans, looking to resurrect the lost technology of the Evangelion program. Or the Chinese, hoping to bolster their faltering economy. Someone important, with power and the means to use it. Not a resident of a rundown craphouse.

She was brought to an apartment at the end of the hall before a bend. The door opened without a key. Mana was carefully placed on the floor, in a narrow living room devoid of any real furniture. She closed her eyes as her escorts left her, trying to recapture her swimming vision.

"Hello, Dr. Kirishima."

Mana looked up. And nearly scoffed in disbelief. It was Aida Kensuke. The same Aida Kensuke she had interviewed two months ago.

_You've got to be fucking kidding me._

He was sitting in a gray folding chair, legs crossed. He was wearing a heavy overcoat, like he was preparing for winter. Kensuke grinned at her shock, and carefully adjusted his glasses.

"Surprised to see me again so soon?" he asked, like he was inquiring about the weather.

"I'm just wondering how long it'll take the military to find and execute you," she said without missing a beat, though her sluggish tongue slowed her words considerably. "Because they will, don't you doubt it."

Mana glanced around the room. It was sparsely decorated, only bare essentials, no luxury or pleasure. A stop over. She wouldn't be here very long.

"Where's Shinji-san?" she asked.

"Safe." Kensuke tilted his head to the side slightly. "That's what you people like to say, right? The military? You say he's 'safe,' right?" He laughed silently. "Safe. Locked away like a common criminal. It's a disgrace."

"Actually, we keep him safe. From all the crazy people out there who think he's a God or a savior. We protect him from idiots who want to employ what he knows again. To try whatever the hell NERV tried ten years ago."

"See, that's why the military doesn't deserve to keep him," he said. He shook his head. "You don't even know everything that happened. You're clueless. You're proof enough of that."

"And you're not?" Mana asked, and it sounded like a joke. Her voice was stronger now, nearly recovered. "Please. All you have is baseless rumor and false hope." She sat up. She got halfway there, then her arms gave out and she tumbled backwards to her elbows. "_You're_ proof enough we were needed. To protect Shinji-san from people like you."

"Don't lie to me," Kensuke said. His voice was still light, amused. He was in total control of the situation, and he knew it. "The only thing you protect is your own self-interests. Shinji is a thing to you, something to berate and abuse and steal from. Don't sit there and tell me your commanders aren't interested in the Evangelion program."

"Only in a guardian capacity." Mana was lying through her teeth and she knew it. "We're watching the gates so no one breaks in."

"What did I just say about lying?" He watched her a moment, then smiled. "Let me help you with those."

He stood and loomed over her, drawing a small key from one of the pockets on his coat. He slowly freed Mana of her confines, then sat back down. She kept her jaw tightly set.

"Why'd you take me, too?" she finally asked.

"You know Shinji," Kensuke stated. "And as such, you're a valuable asset. You see, Shinji is… incalculably precious. Not just because he was a pilot, or might have access to the secrets of NERV. Mostly, you're here because I want to find out how much you and the military know. Or would you rather I killed you?"

Mana knew she was, in an extreme sense, lucky to be alive. But even if they were skittish about killing, she still thought they were better off leaving her back at the safe house. What the hell were they really after here?

She finally summoned the strength to fully sit up. Mostly to spite her captor. Mana gave herself a final push, and hunched forward, like a heavy tree branch. She rubbed her sore wrists.

"Did you leave the guards alive?" she asked. "The ones stationed at the house Shinji-san was in?"

"Does it matter?" He kept his gaze on her placid and calm. "Yeah, they're alive. I think. We used a lot of gas. I had a friend hack into the security archives for the house and find when the shift change occurred. Besides. You know he was about to be moved to another house with a new doctor. The security was a little chaotic. Made my job easier. We waited, then hit them when they were just getting comfortable.

"But come on. You guys know the dangers when you sign up, right? You know you could be killed in any number of entertaining manners. When you join, when you get indoctrinated into the service, you 

gradually loose that normal terrified voice that forbids fear and uncertainty. It's a necessary part of keeping your kind alive."

"Since you're such an authority on the armed services."

"I saw it happen." Kensuke glanced away. He was quiet for a time. When he finally spoke, he sounded like he was confessing some deep, dark secret. "When I first met Shinji, he was timid, and shy, and depressed. Shrank away from people so he wouldn't have to be forced into any uncomfortable situations. Like it was better to be alone than deal with other human beings, and the possibility of rejection.

"But as we became friends, and the war progressed and things got more and more insane… Shinji… he changed. He was never an outgoing kind of guy, didn't make a lot of noise or create waves… but as he got to know me and Touji, and Asuka and Ayanami, and the people at NERV… he loosened up. He smiled more often, he joked with us a little, he seemed… lighter.

"He changed, and I thought it was a good thing. I mean, I was a fourteen year old kid. Surfaces were all I saw and cared about. So I saw Shinji's transformation and I was glad for him."

He smiled without humor.

"But it wasn't because he was happy. It wasn't because he found a reason to survive. It was because he started living each day with nothing but the belief he was going to die at any time. It was like everything that happened to him in his life was nothing but an annoying precursor to death. He was waiting to die.

"He had gradually lost all hope, for the future, for himself, for everything. He was fighting solely because others told him to. He didn't have a reason beyond trying to prevent people from hating him.

"And he became… relaxed. With the Eva, he found a way to connect with people. It was all superficial and false, of course. I admit, the only reason I started and kept being his friend was because he was a pilot. It was the same for everyone else in his life. They talked to him, interacted with him, tolerated his presence near them, solely because he could pilot the Evangelion.

"And he knew that. Without Eva he was nothing. All his friends and associates, they'd know he was nothing. So he piloted. Even after he mutilated Touji. He kept doing it. Just to have people smile and speak and be with him. That was it."

He shook his head.

"I think a part of him was trying to get killed every time he went out to fight. But he couldn't. He couldn't help but win every time. Heh. Actually, did you know he _did_ die twice? And came back both times?"

"So, what?" Mana shook _her_ head. "You think he's immortal?"

He laughed at her.

"I'm not an idiot, Dr. Kirishima."

"Could have fooled me."

"I know he's not a God or anything," Kensuke said, undeterred. "He's a man. But he's been through more than any other human on the face of the earth. He's unique. He's special. He's not like the rest of us." He paused, then took a breath to say more.

"And he enjoys long walks on the beach and karaoke," Mana interrupted with a scoff. "Get over it. You're just another obsessed little boy with dreams of rescuing your idol and riding off into the sunset. Get a life."

"A life," he said. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Say, like yours? I remember when you talked with me that first time. I saw how intense you were, the fire in your eyes. I know how hung up on Shinji you are. You can try to hide it, but to someone who knew him, really knew him like I did, your fixation is plain to see."

"Fixation," Mana repeated. "Well, you'd certainly know a lot about that, wouldn't you?"

His eyes narrowed further. He had lost interest in this conversation. But he couldn't let her have the last word, especially something so derogatory.

"Shut the fuck up. You're only alive by my will. You only stay alive by my will. So shut your mouth and learn some God damn respect."

Mana turned away to hide her grin. This was what she knew him to be. Petty, jealous, angry. A little boy. And she'd finally gotten him to break from his whole persona of knowledge and control. But she knew he'd never kill her. He didn't have the training, or the mettle. She knew who he was.

After a long breath of silence, a tall man entered the room, dressed in black and wearing dark sunglasses. He looked like a government agent. He walked behind Kensuke's chair.

"We're ready to move," the man said, leaning down.

"Great." Kensuke smiled, his mood altering in an instant. "Ah, just a moment, please." He pulled out a small cell phone and punched a few buttons. He brought it to his ear. "Yeah. It's me. Commence Blue."

"Blue?"

"Yes." He stood up. "Blue." He pulled a slim silenced pistol from his coat, cocked it, and pointed it at the man in one smooth motion. Kensuke shot the man in the head, and he fell backwards in a crumpled heap on the floor. Blood began to cough up from the wound and spill onto the dirty wood floorboards.

He gradually lowered the gun, his eyes fixed to the dead man at his feet. He breathed hard through his nose.

Mana, cringing from the muffled hiccup of the gunshot, slowly brought her hands away from shielding her body.

"What are you doing?" she yelled.

Crackles of gunfire erupted from beyond the apartment door. There was shouting, and screams, and more gunfire. It was a frenzied cacophony for a moment, then ended as abruptly as it began. Kensuke pointed his gun at the door.

It opened a crack, only a sliver of the hallway beyond visible, and a hand slithered through, fingers spread wide.

"We're good," a husky voice spoke.

Kensuke lowered his weapon. It was shaking.

"Come in," he said.

The door swung wide, and two men entered. They were poorly dressed, dirty looking and young. Nothing but boys, really. Mana quickly committed their faces to memory.

_More cult members,_ she catalogued them.

"We lost Daisuke and Naota," one said. He was tall and lanky, a scraggly moustache clinging to his lip. One of the same men from the van, Mana realized.

"Fuck," Kensuke said. "I told you to be careful. What the fuck happened?"

"Look," the second spoke, holding up his hands. He was the same man who opened the door. He was shorter than the first, his jaw sprinkled with curly hairs. "You selected us for this because we had weapons training. But none of us were ever in a real gunfight before, okay? Neither were you." He glanced down at the dead agent, and swallowed hard. "Holy shit, Kensuke."

"W-we won," the first said. "But only because we had surprise on our side. The plan worked just like we worked out. We all pulled our guns after you called Daisuke and he gave us the signal by coughing, and the rest of us swarmed out from those two empty apartments. Still, those were professionals, alright? We were lucky." He shook his head sadly. "Poor Daisuke."

"Fuck," Kensuke said again.

"We need to move soon. There might be more agents around."

"Yeah, yeah." He ran a wavering hand through sweat-soaked sandy hair. "Even though a gunfight in this neighborhood won't raise any alarms for cops. It's expected. No one will give a damn."

Kensuke sighed stiffly, and his eyes fell down on the dead man sprawled at his feet. The pistol shivered in his hand.

"Where's Shinji?" he asked.

"R-right behind us. But… do you, I mean is it okay for…" He gestured to the body.

"Where's Shinji!?"

"We're coming in," a subtle voice wafted from beyond the ajar door.

It opened a moment later, and Mana snorted softly. Shinji stood in the doorframe, hands shackled, with two more young men behind him. They were armed, pushing the former pilot ahead like a prisoner.

Kensuke froze to the floor. He swallowed. He licked dry lips. After a moment of eternity, he stepped forward and sucked on a breath.

"Shinji," he spoke softly, like a prayer. His face broke into a wide smile that lifted his ears. "Shinji." He stopped abruptly in mid-step, and glanced down at his hand, filled with the pistol. He absently laid it on the folding chair behind him, then refocused his entire being on the man before him. "Shinji."

"Kensuke," the former pilot said. He almost sounded disappointed. He glanced down at the dead man sprawled on the floor at their feet and shut his eyes.

"You remember me." He smiled, then his brow shot down in a scowl. "What are you doing?" Kensuke snapped at the men behind his old friend. "Get those handcuffs off of him now!"

The men complied, but stayed close to him, supporting him up, waiting for the gas to completely leave his system. Aida shook a slight case of shock from his head. He could have sworn he saw scars on his wrists. He stared back up to his prize's face.

"Shinji." The bespectacled man looked awed. "It's… it's great to see you again."

His old friend looked ready to take a nap. Kensuke wrote it off as a side effect of the gas. He took another step forward.

The other cultists were in a similar state, though they were better at hiding their rapture. But they all stared at Shinji, eyes wide and shining with elation and wonder. They looked like preschoolers watching a favorite movie.

Mana started to move.

It was a small gun, but it had at least six more rounds in it. Sufficient to at least wound her captors enough to make an escape attempt. Mana knew by now the military was scouring the surrounding cities around the safe house looking for their stolen property, to say nothing of whatever group that guy in the suit belonged to. Shinji was too valuable to ignore.

But if there was anything she could do… she at least had to try. She couldn't fail him again.

Mana took a silent gulp of air and heaved her body forward. She was on hands and knees, her line of sight focused intensely on the folding chair Kensuke had been sitting in, and the silenced pistol it proudly displayed.

She chanced a quick look up. Everyone was carefully attending the reunion of the two old friends. From her position she could only see Kensuke's back, but his voice displayed his emotional state clearly enough. He was ecstatic. Elated. How many times must he have dreamed of this moment? For how many years?

Mana could see Shinji. He looked… almost bored. Let down. Wasn't he surprised? Or excited to be out of the house that had been his prison for nearly a decade? Was his melancholy so severe that even this situation was nothing but a useless waste of time?

She caught his eyes briefly, and his demeanor shifted into restrained alarm. He saw her intended target, and mouthed a single word.

No.

Despite herself, Mana halted. He was still staring at her, trying to force compliance with his stormy eyes. She had almost forgotten how intense he could be. But still he stared, nearly pleading.

_Don't do it._

Mana looked away. The chair was close now, and everyone who might present a hindrance to her was still attending their leader, Aida. She moved slowly, quietly, but surely. A plan began to form in her quick mind. Grab the pistol, capture Aida from behind, hold him until she and Shinji could get out of here and back to… to what?

She unexpectedly paused. Even if she somehow, miraculously managed to escape here with him, what awaited Shinji? Another prison home, or a true cell, without the attempt at artifice he was used to?

This was his fate, she thought bitterly. There was nothing she could do to change it. As long as he lived, he'd never be free. Despite her wishes. Despite insane attempts by little boys. Nothing would ever change.

She moved towards the gun.

Watching her progress across the dirty floor Shinji felt a gut emotional reaction that he couldn't stop. Despite their respective positions, he had come to feel a mild form of attachment to her over these past few months. It was the same attachment he developed with every doctor that came to talk with him. He couldn't help it. Any person who bothered to show any kind of interest, even if it was forced and artificial, affected him.

I'm still a child.

But he finally had the will to act. To not just sit and watch as someone who noticed him was about to be killed.

Shinji pulled away from the men holding him upright with a sudden burst of strength, and barreled past a shocked Kensuke towards Mana. His legs gave out and he buckled forward, landing on his forearms. But the momentum he had was enough to carry him to the doctor, and he blocked her hands from grasping the pistol.

"Don't die," Shinji whispered to her.

A moment later he was pulled away from her, and his arms firmly secured by the cultists. Mana too was hauled to her feet like a rag doll, and Kensuke re-cuffed her hands, all the while giving her dark look of promised revenge for this affront. He picked up his gun and brandished it like a wand.

"Stupid," he spit out. He looked truly pissed.

Mana felt a tinge of legitimate fear. Kensuke had already killed one person. What was stopping him from giving her a repeat performance? She still couldn't believe he did that. It took a genuine nerve for normal people to take a life. Certain ones could be trained to do it, to suppress a lifetime of ingrained morals and ethics and pull the trigger. And even then therapy and counseling were common and oftentimes expected. Mana had never killed anyone. She was trained to do it, and liked to think she could if the circumstances demanded it, but even to see someone, a stranger, a novice, murder another human being right in front of her was disturbing.

Still, she was prepared for death. Growing up in the world she did, she had made peace with it long ago. After all, an Impact, colossal monsters bent on the destruction of the world, and training to pilot a giant war machine did tend to jade a person on the fears of passing away.

Yet that incessant human dread for the end began to creep up behind her resolve and courage. While her face and demeanor remained a front of bravery, she started to feel total panic make her sweat and batter her heart. Mana tried not to shut her eyes in terror.

"Stop," Shinji spoke as Kensuke leveled his gun at the woman's temple.

"This isn't your concern," the bespectacled man said. His eyes turned steely, preparing to take another life. He briefly nodded to his associates, telling them to remove the former pilot from the room. They complied, capturing each of his arms and pulling him away.

"I said stop," Shinji said again.

His voice was calm and composed. But when Kensuke turned to regard him and looked into his eyes he did not see the boy who had been his friend so many lifetimes ago. He did not see the man who had been imprisoned for so long. All he saw was a creature. A thing.

Kensuke looked away. He convinced himself he was imagining it. Shinji wasn't like that, like some animal. He was a person.

He gazed down on Mana. Her jaw was a lock, but her breath was coming in short, nearly silent pants through her nose. She tried to appear defiant and brave, but her body was trembling. He shut his eyes.

After a moment of indecision, he placed the gun back into his coat.

"Let's move," Kensuke said.

* * *

They relocated quickly and quietly. They encountered no more agents in the apartment complex, or in the alley below. Mana was hurled into the back of the van again while Shinji was placed in the passenger seat, with a heavy hooded jacket thrown over his head. The other cultists split up, to cover their tracks and set up the necessary details needed to remain out of sight.

At length the van stopped and Shinji was led up into another apartment in another questionable neighborhood, and no one gave him a second look. Even though he was wobbling on his feet and was being escorted by three other men. He wasn't rich or important, so nobody cared. Kensuke, leading the other two, never said a word.

They walked as quickly as they could without fully carrying Shinji, and brought him to the fifth floor. The elevators did not work. He was sweating when they finally stopped. That only further justified this stop in Kensuke's mind. His friend needed time to rest and recover his strength, and not in the back of some dirty little van, like a pet.

The hall ended, and he halted, and the others halted behind him.

"Where's Dr. Kirishima?" Shinji asked.

"Alive."

Kensuke opened a nondescript apartment at the edge of the dim hall, and ushered everyone inside. A word sent the other men carrying him away, to stand guard and keep watch for anyone suspicious. They gave a last, longing look at Shinji, then vanished as Aida shut the door and locked it.

He turned to gaze upon his victory, and openly balked. Shinji, still a little unsteady on his feet, was all but being embraced by a small girl with short jet black hair molded to her head.

_Mother fucker,_ he thought.

The girl gazed up at her savior in total adoration.

"It's really you," Kaede whispered, her face filled with awe and wonder. She looked like a child. "I… it's really you."

"Shinji," Kensuke said, stepping forward to take control of this unexpected turn. "This is—"

"Aino Kaede," she blurted. She blushed a little at her outburst. "Sorry. I… it's an honor to meet you." She couldn't quite force her mouth to utter his hallowed name now that she was actually in his presence.

"Um… hi." Shinji glanced away from the girl before him to his old friend for some kind of further explanation, slightly unsure how to act. It had been a long time since a female was so friendly with him. Or at all. He almost expected to get slapped.

Kaede took advantage of his sudden distraction by quickly leaning forward and inhaling deeply. She drew back just as fast, a light in her eyes Kensuke knew all too well. He reaffirmed his earlier initial opinion that leaving them alone would be a bad idea.

"Yeah," Aida sighed. "Like I was saying. This is Kaede. She's a friend. She's, ah, I guess you could say she helped with what happened today. I mean, I led everything, but Kaede was a part of the planning stage. She—"

The girl couldn't take it anymore. Her hand, almost of its own accord, lurched forward and grabbed Shinji's right. She openly gasped at the sensation, the warmth, the softness, the texture… him. Absently, she felt her underwear was totally ruined now. She wanted to look into his eyes, she really did, but the sight of her hand actually _touching Ikari Shinji_ was completely demolishing any sort of control she possessed. She was frozen, unable to do anything except hold and stare at his hand.

She wished she had a million eyes, cast all around him, viewing every possible inch of his body at once. Cursed with a mere two, she had to make do with absorbing every facet of the divine godliness encased in her palms. For now, for this moment, it was almost enough.

"Um, could you not do that?" Shinji asked.

He could have told her to shoot herself in the head and she would have done it.

"Oh!" Kaede jumped back after a second to restart her brain and retrieve her hands. "Sorry! I… I wasn't thinking! I just, just… sorry."

Touch me, slap me, rape me, fuck me, be angry at me, be disgusted with me, love me, crave me, hurt me, kill me, do anything you want with me just please don't hate me please.

She flung her arms behind her back, contemplating how to cut them off to make amends for this grievous transgression. And to push her modest chest out further.

But she didn't stop staring up at him. She couldn't. Her mouth opened a little. Her eyes were wide and shining. Shinji awkwardly glanced away. Kensuke stepped past him.

"Could you excuse us for a moment?" he asked without really asking. "There's something we need to discuss." He smiled in overt politeness. He quickly collected the girl under his left arm and literally dragged her across the room to a small enclosed kitchen.

"… sure," Shinji said.

As her view of the former pilot vanished when she was towed behind a dead refrigerator, Kaede gave a nearly orgasmic sigh. She clutched her heart and fell against a dirty counter.

"Oh wow," she breathed. It was all she could formulate to sum up her feelings.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kensuke whispered, planting his hand by her hip. He was desperately trying to keep his anger under restraints and not hit her until she was a paraplegic. This was his moment. No one else's.

"You did tell me to collect all your discs and other important stuff from your apartment, right? Well, I did." She shrank a little. "Sorry, but I just couldn't wait for your call. I wanted to see how things went, and…" Kaede strained her head past him and shyly looked back at Shinji, who was just staring out the window. "I really wanted to meet him. As soon as I could."

_Fuck,_ Kensuke thought. Granted, with the company he kept, it was only a matter of time before some obsessed little girl with a permanent hard on for Shinji showed up, but he knew from experience it was nearly impossible to control Kaede. She had begged him to tag along on the rescue mission, but he told her she wasn't any good to him dead. By "him" he let her decide if he meant himself or Shinji.

"Well, you've seen him. Now get the hell out of here. He isn't up for a party."

"All he has to do is lie back and relax," she said.

He shut his eyes wearily.

"Now is _not_ the time." For you. "He was just rescued from a glorified prison after being tortured for a decade. I don't care how horny you are, I really don't think he's in the mood for some little girl giving him a clumsy blowjob."

"That's ridiculous. Everyone's always in the mood for a blowjob."

"Fine! _I'm_ not in the mood. He needs rest."

"What better way to relax than with—"

"I said no!"

"Fine, fine," Kaede huffed after a moment, trying to wave away this insignificant man and his anger. What, did he think he had exclusive rights on Ikari? Ooh, he led the rescue mission and used to be his friend. Big deal. It wasn't like he was exactly equipped to properly thank the former pilot and savior of the earth the way he deserved. She smiled. "I'll just wait until you go to sleep."

She thought he'd scowl, or sigh, or shake his head. Instead, Kensuke tore his arm from its position by her waist and wrapped it around her neck so quickly she wasn't even aware he had moved until she felt his palm crushing her windpipe. Her body slammed into the refrigerator. She didn't even have time to gasp or make some kind of sound to sum up her surprise and outrage. How dare he—

"Listen to me you little slut," he hissed through his teeth. His hand tightened. "I don't care who you try to control by opening your legs. I don't care if you try to control me. But I will kill you before you dare attempt to use your filthy rancid little hole to get close to Shinji. I don't care if you'd let him fuck your mouth, or your pussy, or your ass, or tell him he could drill a hole in your face and fuck that too. You're just some disgusting perverse bitch and you don't even deserve to have Shinji spit on you. So take a fucking towel, wipe off your slimy legs, and get the fuck out of my sight."

Kaede raised an eyebrow, and leisurely placed a hand on Kensuke's, still gripping her throat.

"How cute," she rasped. "Little Ken-chan is upset and trying to protect his special friend. Maybe if I do leave you can finally get your wish and ram your itty bitty dick up his—"

He punched her in the stomach as hard as he could. She gave a short, surprised "puh" and tried to double over. Kensuke's clawed hand around her neck did not allow her to.

"Maybe you misunderstood me," he said.

Their relationship had always been a healthy mix of sadism and masochism. Not so much in the physical sense, more in the fact that they both cheerfully ripped and shredded each other's emotions, while being fully aware of what they were doing.

They never went on dates. They never asked about each other's childhoods or families. The only time they spoke of their pasts was when she wanted to know something about Shinji. Hers remained a complete blank.

Actually, they never talked about anything except the Evangelion, discussing obscure aspects of the war and trying to attach meaning and symbolism where there was none. They could never accept that it just happened. There was always some hidden, greater meaning to justify all the tragedy that the Angels wrought. But it was just reality. It was not a fantasy. Looking for more, especially from giant uncommunicative entities bent on some incomprehensible goal was pointless. But it was all they did.

Unless they were fucking. Whenever they slept together, it was never making love. It wasn't even sex. Nothing but fucking. Just close your eyes and tear into each other until you can finally cum. They never woke up next to each other, or sang sweet romance in wanting ears. Merely a few moments of superficial physical connection followed by an empty bed.

Empty. That was a fine way to sum up their relationship, their lives. And getting punched in the stomach seemed to remind both of them of that.

Kensuke wasn't disgusted or upset with himself in the least. Nearly all forms of sexism had disappeared since the Impact. Man or woman, if you could do something, you did it, and no one gave a damn about gender. What you kept in your pants was almost a novelty. People were people.

Hitting a woman was still taboo in certain crowds, but to him, to the level of society he belonged to, it wasn't merely a normal occurrence, it was almost expected, no different from hitting a guy. He knew firsthand women could be just as violent and cruel as men. It was all a system of control.

When he was younger, before Impacts and returns and reconstructions, he was a child. He had no control over his surroundings or relationships or what happened to him or the people he cared about. Monsters and robots and war swirled outside his bedroom window and he could do absolutely nothing to help it. He couldn't help himself, or the children forced to fight in it. He couldn't help Shinji. But now he was a man. He made decisions that affected his life and paid bills and fucked and rescued heroes. Everything he did was to keep that fact a reality. To stay a man. Now he could help.

And if he didn't have control he wouldn't be able to. He wouldn't be a man. But he did keep it. He kept it by dissolving the lies of people around him told themselves, by rescuing Shinji, by keeping him safe and protected. Now he could finally, finally help Shinji. Hitting Kaede was nothing but a way to reaffirm his control, his role as a man.

At last he could hurt her like he wanted. He'd been sick of her worship for _his_ friend and disassociation with the real world for months. Almost since he met her. And now he could finally express it. Because he didn't need her anymore. He didn't need a pale imagined substitute for Shinji any longer because he had the real thing just a few yards away. He wasn't forced to feed her his memories or ineffectually relive his past through words to satisfy his desires. He didn't need to now.

Now he didn't even have to talk to her. Now he didn't need to. Because he had him. He was his.

Kensuke withdrew his fist, still planted under her ribs, and slowly raised it to her face. He wiped away one of the tears of pain that slipped from her left eye. His fingers lightly ran down along her jaw to her lips, still parted after the aborted cry, and closed them. He passed his thumb over the seal gently, while the hand around her throat remained hard and unwavering.

"You will not dirty him, understood?" His tone was soft, like he was asking her if she wanted him to eat her out.

He wasn't scared in the least. Kaede wouldn't go running to the authorities. There was no way she'd ever miss her chance at seeing Ikari Shinji. He could cut off her right arm and she'd still keep her fucking mouth shut. He just had to refresh her memory a little.

Kaede didn't respond. Kensuke tilted the hand around her throat up, then down, forcing a nod out of her.

"Good." His hands released her, and her own grasped her stomach and neck. He watched for a moment, then told her: "Get out."

That was all had to say now. Because he knew she'd obey now.

She nodded again, of her own free will, and shuffled out of the kitchen. He nimbly stepped next to her and swept an arm around her back. Kensuke walked her to the door, deftly unlocking it while keeping the girl upright and shielded from Shinji.

"Goodnight, Kaede," he said a cheerful tone. "Sorry you couldn't stay longer." He smiled. He shut the door. After a moment he refastened the deadbolt.

Shinji was staring out the window. It was old, the wood cracked and splintered. The mere fact it was wood told him it was old. The floors and walls were stained and scratched. It smelled like age and humans. He kept staring out the window. The rest of the apartment was on his right, the kitchen, and beyond that a short hall with a bedroom and bathroom on either side. Like a roomy coffin.

He heard nearly everything between Kensuke and the girl, but he couldn't summon any feeling at all. His old friend struck her for trying to be nice to him and… there was nothing inside. Not even the socially ingrained conviction about the sin of hitting women. Just… nothing. All he could dredge up from his emotional abyss was a sustained disappointment, knowing what an utter and terrible horror he was now that he was in the real world again.

"How did you manage to kidnap us?" Shinji asked Kensuke when he moved away from the door. "That was a secure military outpost guarded by trained agents."

"It wasn't as secure as you might think," he said breezily. "There were only six agents stationed to the house at a time. If you were held at a real base, I'd never have any chance to help you... I guess we should thank their misguided attempt to give you a modicum of comfort."

"… yeah."

"But really, okay sure, they were trained pros, but how much time do you think they passed just staring out at nothing, waiting for the day to end, while they guarded you? They got complacent. Lazy. They were easy pickings for someone who knew what they were doing. Understand, I spent a lot of time researching and planning this day."

"But you had help," Shinji stated. "Who were those boys? The ones that assisted you back at the apartment complex?"

"Friends. We… share the same interests. They're all amateur gun enthusiasts, so they know how to handle a weapon, even though they don't have any actual field experience beyond firing ranges. But still. They did a good job."

He paused.

"They're going to leave us alone for awhile. They have some things that need taking care of. Little things like setting up our next few accommodations as we travel and drawing in the network of people who are going to help us. You'd be surprised how dedicated these people are."

"Who put you up to this?" Shinji's asked softly. He knew even if he had connections to a hacker, there was no way Kensuke could find out where he was. He hadn't tried anything like this before. Someone must have told him. Someone important and powerful. "Those men in the suits looked pretty professional. Why did they bother contacting you in the first place?"

"That's been bothering me, too." He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe they saw me as someone they could use, order around or direct without fear of defiance. Most people see cult members as unintelligent losers willing to do anything to get what they crave. Or maybe they wanted to find out exactly how much I really know."

"Cult?"

Kensuke swore in his head, harsh and furious.

"Um, well…" He adjusted his glasses. "Yeah, there are people out there… you really don't know?"

"No."

Aida debated the wisdom of revealing this tiny aspect of his life to Shinji. But in the end, because he could never deny him anything, even the simplest of requests, he spoke.

"You got to understand, after Third Impact people were incredibly scared. They still are. They felt like God abandoned them, even more so. But, you know, human beings need to believe in something. Anything. So, some people started to see the Evangelions and NERV as, well, not divine, but powerful. The kind of powerful that only Gods can be. And gradually it evolved into a way of life. To venerate those that protected them and made continued life possible.

"And the pilots. They started out as celebrities, but it slowly became… I don't know the right word. Avatars, I guess. Representatives of mankind's will to survive. They acted on behalf of the entire human race, to safeguard them, like heroes.

"And you. You're a champion to so many people, Shinji. A savior. You saved the world so many times, even though it hurt you. You deserve… so much. What the military did to you is a crime. You should be hailed by everyone alive today. It's because of you the world even has a chance to recover. All because of you."

Kensuke cringed, almost reflexively.

"D… don't jump to any conclusions: I'm not like them at all. I mean, sure, I hang out with them, but I don't worship you like they do. They were the ones who helped us escape today. They're a little extreme at times, but they have their uses." He swallowed. "But… but I do think you're a hero."

"A hero," Shinji said quietly. "The only heroes I know are dead."

"No." Kensuke was deadly serious. "No. You are a hero. You always were. I just… I just didn't see it back then, when we were kids. But now… you _are_ a hero, Shinji."

"Time colors memory," the former pilot muttered. He glanced around the room they were in. It was nearly bare, like it was waiting for someone to move into it. But compared to his home, the prison he had known for so long, it seemed like his old apartment.

His eyes fell on several boxes placed against the far wall under a shuttered window. They were all crammed to the brink. Filling them, threatening to spill onto the floor, were dozens and dozens of CD cases, all labeled carefully, like some kind of library or archive. Shinji openly stared, and it took him a few seconds to realize what they were.

"You still have all your discs?"

"It took me years and a lot of money to track them down, but yeah. I have most of them. Why? You want to watch some?" He tried to keep the eagerness from his voice and failed.

"No."

Kensuke turned away to frown. The years had made Shinji hard. He wasn't the skittish little boy he remembered. But having him here, having the real thing was a thousand times better than any fantasy or imitation. He had him. He willed his erection to remain a semi-soft lump against his left thigh.

_If he was a woman… everything would be perfect. _

"Well, what _do_ you want to do?" Kensuke asked. "You are a free man now." He hid his disappointment of not being thanked yet.

Shinji's eyes remained unchanged. He looked like that sentiment was an insult. When he finally spoke, it was a whisper.

"I've never been free. I never will be."

"You're free, Shinji," he reaffirmed. "Trust me." He resisted the urge to touch him, to make him realize his sudden good fortune. "You are free."

They were quiet for a time. Somewhere below them, a child coughed, and was plain to hear, even through a floor.

"You're an idiot," Shinji finally said.

"… what?"

"I wasn't dangerous where I was. Out in the open like this I'm a threat."

"But… you were a prisoner!" Kensuke shouted. He spread his arms wide. "The army was keeping you locked up like a convict! You can't tell me you were okay with that!"

"Considering the alternative, yes, I was okay with it." He shook his head, almost in pity. "You don't get it. I'm a risk just being here. At the safe house I was alone, and trapped, but I was harmless." He drew a breath. "You need to take me back."

Kensuke had imagined a lot of scenarios of what would happen when he finally rescued his old friend. A smile, a thanks, maybe a hug, and then they could leave the country, change their names, and forget the world. Forget Third Impact and the Evas and NERV, and all the people who ever hurt him. He'd help him forget. Just like when they were children. Just like it was supposed to be.

"I will not let those God damn bastards ever lay their filthy hands on you again. Those monsters at NERV used you for their own gain, and the military took advantage of you after you returned. Like you're some tool to sate their desires and urges. You're not! You're a human being! You're better than anyone else! Better than me, I know. You don't deserve to be locked up. You deserve—"

Shinji's eyes narrowed dangerously and he fixed his eyes on the floor. Kensuke gaped at him, trying to understand what was wrong.

"You're… you're a hero. You're a good person. Why can't you accept that? It's the truth."

Shinji was silent.

"Why aren't you happy? You don't have to be degraded or abused anymore. The military can't touch you. No one can. Not if you don't want it. You can be you, without anyone else ordering you around. You can be free."

Shinji didn't say anything. His face was stoic.

"I killed for you!" Kensuke nearly screamed. "So you could be free! Doesn't that mean anything to you!?"

"No one asked you to."

Aida felt a flash of uncontrollable fury at this man.

"Every day you were trapped in that jail asked me, _made_ me help you. I couldn't just stand idly by knowing you were being kept like a common criminal. Not when you deserved so much more. You… you deserve more than I can give you, Shinji. The most I can do is set you free. The rest… the rest is up to you."

He kept speaking, but Shinji no longer listened. It was like the world and everything in it began to fade. His former friend dulled into an irritating buzz around his ears. The apartment was nothing but a vague sensation of firmness beneath his feet, and the feeling of being reduced to nothing but a caged animal. It was all familiar, because this was how he always felt.

Up to me… my will, to shape my future, to shape my freedom. My free will to shape the world.

_I will never be free,_ Shinji thought. _Never. Nothing I do, nothing anyone else does… none of it will ever matter. There is no freedom for anyone, not anymore._

PUNISHMENT

Alone, even surrounded by other people. Alone with an old friend, some weird girl, boys who murdered others to find me, the doctors who talk to me, the guards who tend to me like a dog, that girl who wore Asuka's face, even with Dr. Kirishima. Alone.

I am always alone.

THIS IS MY PUNISHMENT

He looked past his friend. Or, he thought he did. He was losing focus again. The physical world was drawing away, leaving only thought. Noise inside his head. It was like all those times when he was in his room, staring at the ceiling. Or whenever he was in the Eva too long. Like when he killed people. It was almost like he could just… drift away. Let him forget everything bad.

A lot of things had occurred in his life that he didn't expect or want, but lately it had been ludicrous. He could live with being forced into life and death battles against Angels. He could live with never finding love in this world. He could even live with being trapped like a disobedient pet for ten years. But this, the fear of being used again for anything even remotely resembling the Eva program was more than he could allow. Or worse, another Impact.

It was why he lied to Mana so many times. Why he tried to kill himself. He was a threat simply existing. People, mankind… they deserved better than the anonymous subsistence of Instrumentality. It wasn't the laying to rest of all of man's worries. It was a fool's dream and a weak escape. It was an abandonment of everything that made humans human. It made the entirety of mankind's history, all of its accomplishments, all of its suffering, all of it, worthless. Pointless. It made everything Shinji had fought for meaningless and trivial, all the pain and agony he and Asuka and Rei and Misato and everyone at NERV went through a complete joke. It was like he was killing them all again, over and over.

And when the military discovered and captured him, his life had a purpose again. Until he died and turned to dust, he was determined to shield the rest of those who returned from going back to that endless sea of collapse.

No one deserved that fate. The handful of men who sacrificed the rest of the human race to ease their own weakness and frailty, let them throw away their flesh and minds. Their cowardice didn't justify dragging the rest of humanity along with them.

That was what he wanted to think. Existence, individuality… that was the right choice, wasn't it? He made the right choice, didn't he?

Didn't I?

But lately… he was tired. Of the lies, the isolation, the alienation from the rest of the people he worked to save… he was only human, after all. And this, Kensuke's retrieval from mind-killing security, it again made him question the merit of his vow. Were humans truly worth protecting? Were they worth this unending agony? Maybe he should stop trying to vainly make amends for his sins and failings. Maybe he should just accept that he truly was damned and leave mankind to its fate. Let them kill themselves. Let them return to Instrumentality. Let them do anything. Nothing matters anyway.

i hate you

Who was he aiming to impress? Who could ever forgive him his crimes? Who could ever give him a shred of contentment or joy again?

I hate you

He couldn't even remember what it was like to be happy. He supposed he was once, when he had his mother. Even though he had no clear memories of her: he couldn't even remember her face. All that remained was a presence, an atmosphere of peace and care that surrounded and cushioned him from the harsh realities of the outside world. But she was gone, never to return. In a state of undeath, trapped in that sick manmade god, forever. Shinji could never be happy again.

I HATE YOU

Was he ever happy after his mother died, when he could recall it? His time in Misato's apartment, his interaction with Asuka and Ayanami, when his father praised him… did any of it give him any real joy or pleasure? Or were all his memories simply colored by his desperate craving for others to like him? Maybe he just convinced himself to like the connections he had formed, to put up with all of their problems and abuse and manipulation so he wouldn't be left alone again. Maybe he really hated all of them, but couldn't admit it, since they couldn't either.

In other words, I love you.

Shinji thought of Kaworu. He believed he could have been happy with him. He didn't care that he was a boy. He didn't care that he was an Angel. He told Shinji he loved him, and that was enough. That was more than anyone else gave him since his mother. More than Asuka, more than Rei, more than Misato… even though if they had told him he would have devoted his entire life to their happiness, even if they were cruel or cold or controlling with him. It wouldn't have mattered.

_I'm so fucking pathetic. I'll surrender myself over to the first person who shows a speck of interest. Even if I end up killing them anyway._

Death may be the only true freedom there is.

_Freedom,_ he mused again. He laughed silently to himself, without any humor. _There is no freedom for me._ _I'll never be free._ _The only thing Kensuke could ever do for me is shoot me in the head. But even then… I don't deserve to have my wish granted like Kaworu. I don't deserve any kind of peace. Even the artifice of Instrumentality. I don't deserve any kind of freedom._

Shinji closed his eyes and wished for oblivion. His mind swam in orange.

_I don't deserve anything._

* * *

End of Chapter 9

Author notes: I'm not sorry about the time it took to update this. Something real, real shitty happened. I'm not bitching. I just want to say writing helps me a lot through tough times, and it's really helped me lately. I've been turning out a whole heap of crap recently in an attempt to escape, from drama and waff to angst and lemons. It might take me a bit to finish all of them, and I appreciate your patience. Stay tuned…

Couldn't help it. I just had to bring Kaede back. Don't know if she'll be in chapter 10. Eh, probably. And I have to say I like how fucked up Kensuke's reasoning skills are.

Meh. My chapters were always fairly long and dialogue heavy, but lately… hope you're not totally bored. Number 10 is the conclusion, and is nearly all talk. On that point… ah, when next time rolls around, sit down, make yourself comfortable, bring a snack… it's about 40 pages. Sorry, Sideris, I just couldn't break it up in a good way. So… yeah.

And in case you somehow missed the glaring truth about my other stories, I suck at endings. The end of TLW? Sucked. The end of Witness? Sucked. The end of IKHW? Will suck. Just giving you a heads up. I can't close the deal. I'm just about to verify that again. Again. But I want harsh judgment. Not just because I deserve it, no. It's the only way I'll ever learn.

Also, is it pretentious that I put last names first? Or say "Children?" Yeah, I think so too. How about honorifics? The only reason I started was to bust out that "sama" joke from TLW. I suck.


	11. Chapter 10

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion

Pre-note: another long one. From a short one. Heh. Me, Adam Kadmon! Grab a sandwich, make yourself comfortable and--wait, scratch that. Make yourself uncomfortable. Otherwise you might fall alseep. Here we go.

* * *

He didn't talk much. Not that it bothered her. Much. She heard long ago children usually talked a lot. Vocalization as a means of proving they exist. It made a kind of sense. But he hardly ever talked. She tried to remember when he started speaking, but everything about his birth, his early years of life, even his conception were muddied and fuzzy. It hurt a little to think about them too hard. Still, she didn't regret his birth. At least, she didn't think so. She was happy to have something to fill her days again. Like when she was young. Those days seemed to blend together they went so quickly. But recently things had been a bit slow.

She almost remembered her adolescence. She remembered feeling pride. A satisfaction with herself. She assumed it was real. She remembered feeling anger too. At people who saw her, but did not see her. She remembered it felt nice to be seen, but it also felt bad. Because the person she wanted to see her never could.

So she made other people see her. If enough did, maybe it wouldn't matter if the person she wanted to see her never did. Maybe it wouldn't matter if that person never looked at her, always looking past her, to something without a life of its own. Something false and fake that only moved the way it was told, that only thought the things people spoke to it.

If everyone else saw her it wouldn't matter that the only time the person she wanted to look at her actually did, it was suspended in midair with a rope around the neck.

But because she was not allowed to hate that thing swinging over the floor, she began to perceive those hanging feet in other people. Though she could never let other people know she hated them. Because they would not look at her if she said so. She had to be a good girl and then maybe, just maybe that person would look her way and recognize her once again, and wrap her in all-protecting arms to defend and protect and make everything that hurt her disappear.

She remembered her mother, giant and warm. She remembered waking up inside her, and becoming untouchable and absolute and great and invincible. And safe. Lifted above all others. So that nothing and no one could ever hurt her again. Like she was flying.

The last time she ever saw her mother she was floating above the floor. How peculiar.

Asuka snapped her bra closed and looked at her reflection in the body mirror mounted on the bathroom door. Her shower was done, and it was time to dress. It was important to shower and dress everyday, they told her. So she did. Because they'd be cross if she didn't.

She looked at herself. She supposed she was pretty and nice. She knew she used to be pretty and nice, when she was young. But lately

The scars were troubling. They were always a source of worrisome irritation, it seemed. For as long as she had them. Which seemed a very long time, but she couldn't quite recall when she got them. The how was fuzzy too. She seemed to remember something about the sky, and bolts of tortuous agony raining down upon her and

She remembered it hurt when Ryouji was born, too. Like she was being split in two. It seemed pain was all she could remember lately. Her hands drifted up to her neck. She could almost see the purpling bruises from her memory. The dark stain of slim fingers closing in around her to take self and identity without remorse or regret. Small hands around a small neck all filled with

Hatred. She knew that emotion. At least, she believed she did. It was so hard to be sure nowadays. She said she did, because it was what people expected of her. And she didn't want them to be cross and stop looking at her. But more importantly if they were cross they would take things away.

She remembered right after Ryouji was born bad people wanted to take him away. To take him away from her. His mother. But then they gave him back to her. And she was happy. At least she thought she was happy. They told her to be careful with him, and nice, and never ever mean. And because she did not know what else to do with him, she agreed.

Then they said strange things. About cores, and desired psychological patterns, and controlled pilot growth, and modified ego development, and required influence of mothers. There were a lot of big words, and it hurt her ears to hear all of them.

But she was glad Ryouji was hers again. He was hers when he was inside her, and he was hers when he was outside her, too. Just the way it was supposed to be. Forever and ever. Forever and ever. For

The color orange floated to the forefront of her thoughts.

Yes, that was right. Orange was the forever and ever color. It used to keep her dead. And now it kept her alive. Thinking of orange always brought back hazy memories, memories that were both less hazy and hazier than all the others.

She was floating. She seemed to remember colors, but they were all strange and unnamable. Words did not exist within her. Thoughts barely did. There was just presence and continuation. There was just there.

There was darkness for a time. Then, like a wedding veil, it lifted, and she felt her ruined body buffeted by invisible currents of wind, airy hands cradling and dragging her up into a world of definition and substance. The sea of orange was gone, and suddenly she had thoughts and feelings and memories and sensations. And emotions. Things like fear, things like loneliness, things like disgust. Oh, and of course there was hate.

But before they all pushed themselves inside her, she saw one last thing rising from the orange. A white face. Not the paleness she expected from her, but white. Nothing but white. White skin and white teeth and white hair, but red eyes. Dirty filthy disgusting red eyes. Looking right at her. Like she was some carnival sideshow. Trapped in a cage with only one eye and one arm.

The white thing smiled at her.

A name. A name drifted up to her conscious mind, but it was still hazy. She focused, hard, on the name, and the number one promptly came to her. No, not one. First. First something. First child? Yes, First child. Ryouji was her first child, too. He had red hair. But he had blue eyes. Blue eyes were good. Red eyes were bad. So was the number one.

One. Alone, apart. Alone, she was alone. She was one.

"Bitch."

The white thing smiled at her. It was like she was everywhere. And nowhere, too. All around, all over, but not around or over. But the white thing smiled and the everywhere feeling grew and grew until it ripped away from her, and then everything collapsed and rushed inside the nowhere place to fill it with things that belonged to her and she could think and feel again. It was horrible, but it was what she wanted. It was what she thought she thought she wanted.

"Bitch."

She woke up with hands around her neck. With eyes above her that saw past her face to her insides, and that bled water when she touched them. A voice that cried. A mind that was always somewhere else.

He looked at her, even though she was dead and inhuman. He thought of her even though she was dull. He said her name when he was supposed to do things to her that would keep him from strangling her again. And that drive began, that motivation to

Days and days passed and they were the only ones alive in the ended places where they walked and slept. They were alone.

They lived in one apartment, the rooms where they shut their eyes divided by a narrow hall. But he made her see him everyday so he could do things to her. Like clean, and cook, and change her bandages. When he did those things it was almost easy to forget what he really was and what he really wanted to do.

After a day, a week, a year, a lifetime, it did not matter. They all felt the same. Without anyone else to look at her time ceased to have meaning. She was no longer able to count minutes until people saw her, or until they would not be able to see her. And without other people to differentiate herself from, she lost the sense of time. Sometimes she would open her eyes and find herself in other places like

The room in the apartment he called the kitchen, and though it did have objects called stove and refrigerator they were all broken and empty. She sat at the thing called the table, but it was cracked down the middle like that giant horrid white face that blotted out the sky. One of the legs was missing, and he had collected wood and boxes from outside to make it stand so they could sit at it and eat at it.

She scrunched her brow in confusion at a gnawing sensation of discomfort, and looked down. There was red coming out from between her legs and onto her chair. She stared at it for a long time. She had seen red come out of her body before. When he changed her bandages sometimes there would be red. He would always look away. Now there was red between her legs. But there weren't any bandages down there. So he needed to put one there.

She rose from her seat and walked to him, leaving a spotty trail of red as she approached. He was at the counter doing things with a knife and a vegetable, and did not see her. She stood behind him, waiting to be seen, but she was not. So she opened her mouth. Words always made him see her.

"Could you fix it?"

He finally turned, not startled at the proximity she had snuck into. She stepped back and sat on the floor before him and opened her legs to find the leak. She lifted the dress he gave to her to replace that red other skin, and pushed that uncomfortable underwear he gave her out of the way. It was red, too.

For a lingering moment he just stared at her. He did not blush. He looked like he was trying to figure something out. Finally he turned back to the counter without a word.

"You can't fix it? Why not? I asked nicely. Why won't you do it? You are good at it."

No response.

"Can't you fix it? I don't like red. And it's uncomfortable and stuffy. Please fix it?"

She crawled over to him on hands and knees, and tugged on his pant leg. It was not right to ask him for things, but he did it before for her, and if he was distracted maybe he wouldn't

"Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Plea—"

He spun around. The knife and vegetable clattered to the floor. She did not mind. He was finally going to fix it.

He used the leg she was holding to kick her away, and she scooted backwards a few feet. She tried to stand up: that made her bottom sore. He kneeled and shoved her to the floor. She landed on her back and grunted. It hurt a little.

He forced her knees apart. She did not mind. He was going to fix the red coming out. Then she found his right thigh pressed into the place between her legs. It was soon stained with red.

His body dropped, and she thought he was going to fall on her. She shut her eyes. A loud thump opened them again. His hand was spread wide next to her face on the floor. The other was fumbling below his belt. What was he doing? He was over her, but his hands were not on her throat, so there was no reason to worry. But what was he doing then?

No, he snarled. His eyes were screwed shut. They were shaking. No. No. No. No. No.

He took something peculiar out of his pants and held it. She couldn't see most of it: it was obscured by his hand. But the end spilled out of his fingers. It looked very stiff.

Ah, she had thought. A penis. She was glad she figured out what it was.

He gripped it and began to quickly pull up, then down, again and again.

His eyes did not look at her insides this time. Only her outsides. Only on the two things made of flesh on her chest.

Ah, she had thought. Breasts. She was glad she figured out what they were.

No, no, no, he kept saying.

Having him over her like this was uncomfortable too, but it was often uncomfortable when he helped her stop the red from coming out of her body. Sometimes the bandages were sticky and had to be peeled off, sometimes he washed them and it stung. Uncomfortable, but he told her it helped. So she let him. She had to. And now she had to let him stay over her and tug on himself.

If he wanted to do this, she had to let him. She had to. Because if she said no he would

He rocked back and forth as his sweaty hands gripped his penis and clawed at the floor by her face and his eyes stared at her chest.

No, no, no, he kept saying. Each no was a pant.

He wanted it, and she could not say no. Even though she didn't want it. Even if it was

disgusting

She had to let him do it. She had to. She had to or else

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no n—_

He closed his mouth and grunted through his nose, but it was high and it whined like a screw being tightened. His hand and the thing in it throbbed and pulsed.

One. Two. Three. Four globs of white liquid dribbled from the end of his penis and onto her midsection, right below her breasts.

Finally the hand by her head, the one so close to her neck, lifted and retreated to its own body, and she could breathe and swallow pain without restraint or fear of reprisal. She listened to him pant a few more times, then he calmed, and sat away from her on his knees. His eyes were shut.

He stood. He turned. He stuffed himself back inside his pants. He picked up the knife and vegetable from the floor. He placed them on the counter. He started cutting again.

Confusion, not of what just happened, but of what it made her feel, frowned her mouth. She had vague recollections of something similar happening before, but as more time passed, the more her memories hazed. But it was branded into her mind that that was what she was scared of. Did she do something wrong? She let him do whatever he did, but he almost put his hand on her. What else was she supposed to do to stop that?

She looked down, past the small puddle of milky liquid sliding across her stomach. She looked between her legs. It was still red.

He cut.

The milky liquid crawled over her pelvis and down between her legs. It oozed into the red.

"You didn't fix it."

He spun on his heel and shot an arm forward. He grabbed a fistful or red and yanked her up by her hair. She cringed and tried to bring her hands up for protection, even though it was wrong, and he sent her into the table. It rocked slightly, then collapsed on one of its edges as the makeshift leg crumbled sending it onto the floor.

He bore down over her, forcing her down on the partially overturned table. His mouth was curled back to show teeth. His eyes were flared with hate.

His hands rammed into her shoulders, then away, up to her collarbone, up to her neck. Her jaw halted the hands from going any further. So they didn't. They lay on her throat for a moment, then the fingers began to curl. Wet palms bore down on her throat. Nails dug into her skin.

She did not want this. She did not want it on her throat. Never on her throat. Not like the other time when he

NO

She said. But he didn't listen. He wasn't behind his mask anymore. He was all eyes and hands and teeth now.

And he kept squeezing. Tighter and tighter. She felt the world slipping away from under her feet. Her vision crept with orange. She didn't want this. She didn't want this. She didn't want to die.

She put her hands on his face. It stopped him last time. It didn't this time. He kept hurting her, and she started to push. Her hands began to shove, then lifted off him before thrusting back. It didn't stop him either. She pulled her hand back further to add more force.

Her middle finger snagged the edge of the bandage over her empty eye and ripped it off. Her unfilled socket gaped at him. His grip faltered.

His hands fell away.

He turned. He left. He returned. He was carrying the bandages. And he set to work stopping the red. He did not meet her eyes.

He cleaned and dressed her wounds, starting with her eye, finally stopping the place between her legs, too. Then she felt him start to wrap her neck in gauze to reduce the swelling. She screamed as loud as she could.

He flinched backwards, his face nothing but surprise. Then it turned downwards into hurt. Then it bled into fury.

He showed her his teeth again. He showed her his hands again.

He was that thing again. She could remember. What he stole from her while she slept. When he left her to die. When he left her to be raped. When he left her to choose that white thing.

He let her fight alone. He let her get torn apart. He let her _die._ He let his hands strip her life and self away. He let _her die._ He let everyone die.

And she knew then. She knew him. What he was. He was a beast. Something that stole a human form and voice and actions but lacked anything of its own. How could a beast be anything other than a beast?

He was dark, and cruel, and vicious, and hard, and frightening, and brutal, and nasty, and perverted, and perverse, and cold, and ruthless, and mean, and wicked, and harsh, and twisted, and cold-blooded, and merciless, and bad, and sick, and scary, and spiteful, and terrible. He was terror. He was hate.

He was not what she used to think he was, long ago when he hid himself with silly things like timidity, and shyness, and nervousness, and anxiety. When it was so easy to look at him and pretend he was human.

She knew him when he was naked to the world, freed from the confines of sentiment and ego, when he was true to what beat within his heart. When he was the beast she now knew him to be. The thing that ate Angels and ran away and hurt friends and touched itself over sleeping girls. The same thing that let the bitch take him and murder the world.

And she knew him when the world was sad and barren. When they were the only two to live there. Now there weren't things like people or rules to get in his way. Now he could be a beast all he wanted and no one could stop him because that was not possible anymore. He was a beast, and she was his prey. And she was

scared

Of him. But if the beast was sated, he would not bare his teeth. He would not hunt you down and choke the breath from your body.

So her entire life became nothing but a play, a farce of her true intentions to keep him, that thing, satisfied. To keep him from ruining her, ruining the rest of the world again. She would have to give him anything. Everything. All that she did was to keep him pleased.

When she said he could live with her. When she said he could go inside her. When she said she wanted him to be her little angel's father. It was all to keep him pleased. Everything she did was to keep him pleased.

Because she was scared of him. Of what he could become. Of what he did become.

Close my heart and seal it away. Stab my eyes so I cannot see. Anything to stop feeling fear and pain. Anything to keep life numb and buried like before.

But when those men came. When those men came and invaded their home to separate them and took him away, finally freeing her from the ever-present and unblinking eyes of the beast, she could not stop the words that tore past her lips.

I HATE YOU.

He heard her, and he did not look angry. He did not even look sad. He looked relieved. Like he had been waiting for her to say it for all those years.

She had wanted to say it for all those years. But if she did, he might choke or kill her world again. She did not want to die. Not like that. Not ever. But everyday she was with him gave a little more courage to his hands. He did what he always wanted, just like he always did.

So let the world die. Let him die. Let everyone else die. As long as she remained, it would not matter. Even if no one could see her. Being alone and invisible was better than feeling his eyes on her. But he was gone from her now, and she was free again, and that was good. She was tired. She wanted to sleep. She didn't want to pretend anymore. She didn't want to be slowly erased by him any longer.

The longer she stayed alive, the longer she was with the beast, the more her past faded. She still had knowledge, but things about herself got harder and harder to pick out. But as that happened, it was easier and easier to feel things. Emotions trumped thoughts. It was like she was growing up, but backwards.

But when she was freed from him, thoughts and knowledge eclipsed emotion. It was a slow process, but the people who spoke to her, cleaned her, did things for her all filled her with practical applications for the things in her head and she was able to compile suitable responses and reactions to what was happening around her. There were things she still had a hard time with, but they would all teach her everyday, even without meaning to.

They would talk, and cook, and sanitize, and do all sorts of things for with her. They used to go inside her and say how pretty and nice she was and it made her feel pretty and nice and she would thank them, and then they would not be inside her anymore but since they would only say those things when they were inside her she let them go inside her.

But now no one said she was pretty and nice. No one pushed anything inside her and said those good things anymore. Even when she said good things to them. It was sad. Because she wanted to be pretty and nice, like she used to be. She didn't want to be broken and ruined and disgraced and scarred and alone.

The reflection in the mirror stared at her.

"I hate you."

The image of skin and hair and scars faded. A white face with white teeth and white hair and red eyes saw her.

"I hate you."

The white slowly filled with peach. The hair filled with auburn. The eyes became dull flecks of blue.

"I hate you."

The peach darkened. The hair dimmed to brown. The eyes clouded and swarmed with cobalt.

"I hate you."

Her reflection returned. It stared at her. She giggled.

"I guess I hate all of you, don't I?"

Asuka finished dressing as she hummed a tuneless song. She left her dirty clothes and towels on the floor. Someone else would pick them up. He used to pick up things like that all the time. But he would always stare at her neck.

The hall outside was long and narrow. There was a green carpet and blue paint and a yellowish ceiling. There weren't any pictures on the walls because she didn't have any pictures so there weren't any pictures on the walls. To the right was the staircase that led to the downstairs and the rooms where she ate and talked to people who came to talk. To the left was a set of bedrooms, one on either side of the hall, one for her and one for the person that came out of her. She waited under the arch of the bathroom door.

She waited for a minute, then another, then two more, and finally Ryouji stepped out of his room. He stopped at his door and slid it shut behind him and looked up at his mother, and Asuka suddenly had the sensation of floating above the floor, gazing down at this child, her child, and she felt happy.

do you love me mama?

"Do you love your mama?" Asuka asked with a bright sunshine voice.

"I love mama," Ryouji replied, mechanically.

"And does mama love you?"

"Mama loves me."

His red hair was draped over his forehead, dripping into the periphery of his eyes. Red overshadowed blue. She did not like that. She walked to him and gently took a handful of it, then tore it out in one brutal stroke. Clumps of crimson drifted to the floor. Ryouji's face did not change.

There. His eyes were blue again. Good.

She bent down until she was crouched in front of him with thighs on ankles, face to face.

"Is mama pretty?"

"Mama is pretty."

"Is mama nice?"

"Mama is nice."

She smiled warmly and shut her eye. She could smile now, because she was pretty and nice. She worked so hard to be pretty and nice. So people would look at her and not at little soulless things.

She took hold of his hands and lifted them up to make them perpendicular to his torso. She released him, and he stayed in the same position. In a single fluid motion she drew his pants down to his feet. She sighed through her nose in disappointment, yet again.

He was still small and soft. Not hard at all. But no one else told her she was pretty and nice anymore, and putting something inside her was the natural and logical conclusion to make those words real for her. But he couldn't. Maybe it wouldn't matter this time.

"Come come, little angel."

She swallowed his stubby little hand in her own slender one, and led him back towards the bedroom. His or hers, she hadn't quite decided yet, and suddenly like a flash of light she remembered how that beast had done this too. Held her hand to lead her places.

Asuka stopped and turned her head. She looked down at Ryouji. His gait was awkward with his pants around his ankles. He was staring straight ahead at nothing. She could see scars on his face now, the left eye gone, bandages on the chest and arm, a blank nothing gaze on the face.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing dark slacks and a dirty white shirt. She kept looking down. Her free hand was holding a little thing, with white cloth skin and tangled yarn hair and red button eyes, all staring back up at her with an empty smile drawn on its face.

Her feet were floating off the ground

Asuka ripped her hand from her son. She stumbled backwards into the wall. Ryouji didn't bother glancing at her. She started screaming.

Agents were in the hall. They picked up Ryouji, and held Asuka down, thrashing like she was on fire.

I'm not like him, she kept yelling.

She wasn't like him. He was a beast. She was a person. She smiled and talked and ate and slept and gave birth and was pretty and nice. She was not a beast. She was not like him.

I'm not like her, she kept yelling.

She wasn't like her. She was dead. She was a shell. She played with little things with red eyes. She was not dead. She was not dead. She was not like her.

But she was becoming like her. And it was his fault. That beast. That killer who destroyed everything, even the world. He hurt her. He made her die. He made her obedient and fearful and not herself. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him.

I HATE YOU

Because she knew what he was.

* * *

I Knew Him When

Chapter 10

* * *

Mana woke up. In that first instant between dream and reality, she could almost pretend she was in her own bed instead of wrapped in a dirty blanket on a cold floor of a smelly apartment. She could almost pretend everything from yesterday was just some sick fantasy or nightmare.

But full consciousness rammed its way inside her quickly and mercilessly, and her sight confirmed she was indeed in the same dusty barren room the cultists had thrown her into last night, and her body was full of heavy weakness from the lingering effects of the gas and fatigue.

But she was alone, at least. No creepy fanboy watching her as she slept, or getting hard and wet over her prone form. She was both expecting and dreading that, given the mental constitution of her captors. They just didn't strike her as the healthiest individuals regarding women. Especially if Aida was their leader.

She rolled over, and wondered who she'd have to beg to get a shower and a toothbrush. She inhaled. And some deodorant. All the sweat from yesterday was ruining her. She sat up, trying to get rid of her mouth's sour stickiness, and ran a hand through her greasy hair.

And it had only been a day, she reminded herself. What a shitty day.

A door opened. Mana looked up, over her shoulder. Light from the hall beyond splashed over her, and she had to shut her eyes. She squinted open, and saw a man enter the apartment she was trapped in, then closed the entrance behind him again. He did not lock it.

"Good morning," Kensuke said, not looking at her. Mana didn't respond.

He walked over to her from the door which led directly to the living room where she was, and set a small plastic bag by her on the floor. When she didn't move, even to glance at what was in it, he sighed slightly, like a disappointed kid waiting for the school day to end.

"There's a toothbrush, some food, some water, stuff I thought you might need," he said. "Use it, don't use it, whatever. The shower isn't working in here, so you'll have to rough it for awhile, alright?"

Mana was silent. She clawed the sheet around her body like a shield. Kensuke let his lips twitch into something resembling pity or regret. He strolled to the far wall and drew the blind from the window. It was still dark outside.

"I'm not doing this…" And he said 'this' to clearly encompass yesterday, perhaps the rest of his life as well, "… because I want anyone to suffer, you know. I just want to help him. And this is the only thing I could do."

She was staring up at him, but her eyes quickly flitted down, looking for a gun. She found it in his front pocket. His hand was hanging lazily at its handle. He saw her as he turned back, and almost smiled.

"Look, I didn't really mean to try and kill you, okay? It just, I was pissed, alright? It was merely the shock of seeing him again, and thinking you might have killed _me_ before I could talk with him… I wasn't thinking. It was a spur of the moment thing. But that other guy…"

He stopped for a breath to let her speak. She did not. He went on.

"The people who, I guess you could say they 'hired' me, they gave me resources and knowledge to rescue Shinji. And in return all they wanted was my cooperation. A list of contacts, meeting points, names, dates, shit like that. I still don't know what they wanted them for.

"But then they asked me to hand Shinji over to them, like a plate of food, right before the operation. And I said no. Not out loud to them, but I vowed never to let anyone use him again. Actually, I had put together a team for something like this even before I sorted out the details of the rescue. Heh. I guess trust isn't a very strong concept these days. If I could have avoided hurting anyone, I would have. But I can't control how everything turns out, you know?"

"Why did you take me too?" she finally asked. "What was your real reason?"

"Because," Kensuke said after a moment spent looking at her, "you like him, don't you?"

Mana flinched backwards.

"You do," he went on. His voice was very soft, not mocking or accusing in the least. There was almost a degree of understanding. "Even though you're a part of the military and your mission is to steal information from him. You like him. I can tell." His eyes softened too. "I first dragged you along because I wanted to see how much the military knew, what they were doing with him. But now… the reason I didn't kill you, why I'm still keeping you around… Shinji would be sad if you were dead or missing."

He paused, internally debating something. He wanted to voice it, but didn't. Eventually he shrugged, and sat down before her on the dirty floor. The gun faced her.

"Shinji… he never had any true affection from anyone his entire life. But I'm sure you know that. All his 'friends' in Tokyo-3 never would have given him a second glance if he wasn't a pilot. And they can delude themselves all they want, saying he became a part of their lives, their families, but it's all a lie to ease their consciences. Because if they accepted the truth, that they were using him to protect their own ungrateful asses while simultaneously kill other people, they wouldn't be able to look at themselves in the mirror anymore.

"Even me," he said. "I would have avoided him like the plague if I hadn't known he piloted the Eva. I hated gloomy people. People who don't have a sense of humor or can't lighten up and at least act like everything's okay. This world is too damn horrible to just focus on it all the time. Humans have to forget sometimes. Sometimes we need to. Shinji put up a good front, but he never stopped thinking about it. He could never let himself have a good time.

"After what happened to Touji I lost all contact with Shinji. I called him once, when I found out he was leaving. But what I really wanted to ask was if I had a chance of becoming a pilot now. We were cut off, probably by NERV. I never spoke with him again.

"I couldn't decide if I was happy, or angry, or sad that he was out of my life. So I tried not to feel anything. It was easier that way. I knew he had something to do with Touji being in the hospital, but I don't know. I honestly don't think he has it in him. To willingly hurt another person. It just doesn't fit who he is."

Kensuke smiled in self-pity.

"I never did visit Touji in the hospital. A part of me hated him. For getting to pilot, for getting hurt… I don't know. The whole situation sucked. And I didn't have anyone I could blame. I wanted to blame Shinji. I mean, I _really_ wanted to blame Shinji.

"But then the Impact happened, and after I returned I looked around this world and I wondered if this was what Shinji wanted all along. A place that would match what he saw life as. A hell or a wasteland. Some kind of punishment for the living. For awhile I thought mankind got exactly what it deserved. Maybe, I thought, Shinji wasn't just punishing himself, but everyone else, too.

"But even if this was his vision of what existence truly was, what he thought _he_ should exist in, Shinji fought. Again and again and again. He never stopped. Even though he hated so many things and so many people, he never stopped. He didn't want this for everyone. He fought because he wanted the world to go on, for humans to live. This…" He gestured vaguely to the room they were in. "This world… he must have thought it was what he deserved or something. He never meant to hurt anyone else.

"Eventually people from the army found me, and started questioning me about Tokyo-3 and the pilots. Like I had all the secrets they were looking for. It was sort of flattering at first, thinking I was helping to make a difference. But I quickly found out they weren't asking me things to help anyone. They just wanted information to get power and hurt people again. I knew Shinji wouldn't have wanted that.

"That's when realized who he was. He was a hero. He put aside his feelings and defended our lives and way of life. Even though he didn't want to. That's what a hero does. He fights and struggles for the greater good, to save people and places, even if it hurts him to do so. That's what Shinji did."

Kensuke blew out a breath, then ran the tip of his tongue across the backs of his front teeth. He shook his head.

"He's not perfect. I know that. But no one is. He's human. But he's different from the rest of us. He isn't consumed with himself. He doesn't lust after adulations or congratulations for what he's done. He doesn't do something just to be praised for it like the rest of us. He doesn't even do things because it's right. No. He does everything he does because he thinks it's what we want. That… that's heroic. He always put himself behind everyone else."

He shook his head again. He nearly smiled again.

"Do you even know why he was in a safe house to begin with, and not a military base? They're scared of him. Of what he can do. Of what he might do if they make him angry again. After the Tokyo-2 Tragedy, no one's taking any chances anymore."

"… what?" Mana asked.

"You don't know? You really don't?" Kensuke laughed once, a short bark. "The military, or the UN, take your pick, they found another Evangelion unit, one built before the Impact. I'm still not sure how they acquired it, but the why is pretty obvious. They wanted power. The kind of power only an Eva can give. So they could take the lead over every other nation. Hold the reins over the entire earth, just like NERV did during the war.

"They had both Asuka and Shinji at the time. They decided to put Shinji in it first, since I heard Asuka was, well, fucking insane. So they put him inside it. And then… he must have seen something when he was inside it, or did something, or they did something… but the Eva detonated, laying waste to the entire city."

Mana's eyes narrowed in angry frustration. That, _that_ was what destroyed Tokyo-2? Why hadn't anyone told her?

"There was an AT-Field detected right before the blast," Kensuke said. "It must have saved him. I don't know if the Eva survived too, but I do know Shinji never meant for it to happen. Never. He was forced into it, just like all the other times. It wasn't his fault.

"Look. Yeah, okay, I know he could get angry sometimes, but hell. Wouldn't you? And besides, that anger was directed solely on the Angels. He never focused it on a human. Never. He knew how to pick his enemies. And he never saw any human as a real enemy. Not one to hurt.

"Anyway. The reason they kept him there, in that prison, and haven't tried anything else with him since the explosion… damn, you really don't know?"

"I… no," she admitted.

"Alright then," Kensuke said. He leaned closer to her, like a child about to impart a great secret. "I don't know the particulars, or when or how it happened, but one day when he was in that safe house, they detected a blue pattern."

"A blue pattern?" Mana repeated in a whisper.

"Again, I'm not sure of the specifics. But I do know it was after the Tokyo-2 mess. That's pretty much it. So they kept him away, somewhere far, far away from those in power, away from all their toys. Did it to Asuka, too. Same with the other higher-ups from NERV. Like they were all somehow dangerous, or he might find out they were mistreating them and do something. Part of me can't blame them. The military around here was always pissing themselves about anything regarding the Evas."

"A blue pattern," she whispered again.

"Yeah. Probably some kind of residual stain that Eva left on him, or all the time he spent around Angels before the Impact. I mean, one of them did swallow him. But the blue pattern, the only reports I was given were sketchy at best, but apparently it took place during some unspecified event one day, and after it happened I heard it somehow changed him. One report read he was a 'different person.'"

_His suicide attempt,_ Mana thought instantly. _Good God. Does that mean he's—_

"Even if they say that…" Kensuke shook his head emphatically. "No. I don't believe it. He may have changed a little, it's natural that he wouldn't be exactly like he was back then, but to say he was a 'different person'… bull. Nothing would make him transform the way they said."

_He doesn't know,_ she realized. _He doesn't know about his suicide attempt, or his insanity. Or… maybe he doesn't_ want _to know._

"Nothing would make him transform," Kensuke was saying again. He turned to her. "Who did you see during the Impact?" he asked abruptly.

"What?" She glanced away in discomfort. This wasn't something you talked about. Not if you had a choice. "That… I don't know what you mean."

"You don't have to tell me. That's okay." He was suddenly smiling. "After it happened, when I came back, I thought I should have seen my mother. Or my granddad who died when I was real little. Heh, I even thought I should've seen Katsuragi. But I saw him. I saw Shinji before I died."

Mana was silent. Was this supposed to surprise her? Was he just trying to keep her off balance by unloading a bunch of unknowns on her in order to remain in control of the situation? Or maybe he was making it up, trying to force himself and everyone else to believe he truly did have Shinji's best interests at heart. Did anyone have his best interests at heart? Did anyone ever? His whole life he was nothing but a tool for others to facilitate their own desires and goals. Something that made him feel less than human. A thing that only wished for death.

Who did he see when he died?

"I've done some research on this," Kensuke continued. "I'm sure you have too. Most people say they saw the person they loved or gave them the most comfort in their lives. A few even say they saw a girl in a school uniform. I always thought she was a bit off… some said they just can't remember, or don't want to remember. Yeah, the memories are tough to process, it's basically remembering the last thing you saw before death, but I never forgot." He chuckled. "Even if I didn't tell you."

"Why are you telling me now?" She fixed him with a tired glare. "I'm not your own personal sounding board. I'm not a priest who'll listen passively and absolve you of all sin. You're not going to suddenly generate some sympathy in me."

Not for him. But gaining knowledge was never a bad thing. She firmly understood Aida now, his motivations and reasoning. After all that she could almost understand why he was doing this. And… even if Shinji was dangerous… he wasn't some monster. He was a person.

But simply saying he was dangerous was a half-truth. Though the knowledge she now all but knew he possessed was dangerous, he, Shinji, as a person, couldn't be. He didn't hurt people intentionally. It didn't fit who he was. It couldn't.

"I know we aren't going to be friends," Kensuke told her with an amused spark in his eyes. "And I know I'm not a great human being. But I'm not some foaming-at-the-mouth terrorist or madman bent on global annihilation. Everything I've done is to get to this moment. Not with you, but with him."

He probably loves him, Mana realized. In a sexual, or a fraternal, or some other way that mixes the two. But it's there. Everything he's done—

The door opened without a knock. A tired-looking man stepped in. Dark hair fell into dark eyes.

"Kensuke. We need to go _now._"

He sighed, but it sounded like he was expecting, anticipating this.

"Alright. Let's get out of here." His voice was not worried in the least. He stood, and offered a hand to Mana. She rose without it. He watched her fix him with a hard gaze.

"What do you want?" she asked. This can't last forever, she knew. This jumping from one shithole to the next. Whether or not he had planned this far in advance after the rescue operation was open to debate. Even if he had, he was fighting a battle he couldn't win. "What do you really hope to accomplish with all this?"

Kensuke looked at her with a gentleness she did not know he possessed. He smiled warmly.

"I want him to be free."

Like the rest of us

To be free

To make his own decisions

To be happy

To be with

To be free.

* * *

They moved, and it was dawn. The sun was a gleaming crimson haze on the horizon between buildings, clouds and blood invading its shine like a hand clawing around a fire.

Kensuke put them both in the back of the same van, lacking the time to locate another vehicle to keep them separated. He did not handcuff them. But he kept the windows covered and the doors locked.

They drove for a time. The van growled and purred, and shook as it rumbled over the road. They could hear other cars occasionally, but it was very early, and the path they took was mostly deserted of normal people living normal lives.

Mana could not look at him. She was still musing on Kensuke's words. It really did seem like he loved Shinji. A strange, unhealthy, obsessive love, but it was definitely there. It was what made him mount this rescue operation, and Mana started to think maybe it wasn't such a bad idea anymore. If it was Shinji who was more or less the cause of the Tokyo-2 explosion, unwitting or not, then giving anyone access to him was risky. Or rather, anyone with means to utilize him.

And if it was Shinji who somehow registered a blue pattern…

She knew it was only a matter of time before someone brave or stupid enough would actively try to use that for some kind of military application. AT-Fields and cross-flares to crush enemy nations. Back before and even after the Impact she lost count of all the higher-ups who talked about recreating an Eva, or even an Angel as a military weapon. Like they could have controlled it. Or the ones piloting them.

Still, a blue pattern… in a human… she had to stop that train of thought. He was not dangerous. She had to remind herself of that. She shook her head. No, she had to remind him of that. Mana was speaking before she realized it.

"I've been meaning to ask you. When the attack happened, when that gas grenade broke into your living room… you seemed like you were expecting it. You kept glancing at the clock. You weren't surprised at all. Did… did you somehow know it was going to happen?"

She waited. He just stared straight ahead at the opposite wall of the van. He looked like he hadn't even heard her. She huffed a little.

"N-never mind, I just… forget it. It was stupid."

"I didn't know," Shinji answered quietly. "I was surprised, I just didn't care. I kept looking at the clock because I was waiting for you to leave. That was probably one of the last times you'd stop over, right?"

"Yeah," she admitted, silently miffed at his choice of words. "I was being pulled off the case to give my final report that week. How'd you know?"

"You had already stayed longer than nearly all the other doctors. I just assumed."

"You really wanted me out of there so badly?"

"I was counting the minutes we would still be together," he said simply.

She looked away slowly. She tried to summon a blush, or a smile, or some feeling of warmth. Nothing arose. The van kept moving around them. She suddenly felt like she was traveling in a hearse.

"We might be dead soon," Mana said. Shinji looked at her, but did not speak. She kept talking. "I mean, the military has to know about the assault by now. They will not let this one slide." She drew a long breath. "Those guys, the ones that helped Aida, the ones in the suits, they weren't military. I don't know who they were. You're pretty popular, Shinji-san."

He looked away. Mana swore in her head.

"Even if I don't know who they were," she went on, "I guess it doesn't really matter. It sounded like Aida killed all of them. So the people who have us now, the people who'll probably have us for the foreseeable future, are those cult guys. I don't know if that's a preferable fate. I suppose you must be a little worried about what they'll do, huh?"

She didn't get an answer.

"Anyway… I talked with Aida this morning. I don't think he's going to hurt either of us. He seems pretty determined to help you. I guess he's just taking me along for the ride."

you like him

"He really seems to care about you. Care isn't the right word. I don't know, concerned, maybe? It just seems like he wants to help you. I guess this was the best way he could show you that." _Or show himself._ "I mean, he did some really stupid stuff, but… he doesn't seem like a reprehensible person. He just wanted to help you. And I… I guess I can't blame him for that."

because i'm the same

"Even… even if I die soon, I'm ready. And I want to believe everything I've done has made my life worthwhile. A lot of people nowadays, since 2000 I mean, a lot of people think you have to do something with your life, like it's a law or something. Life isn't a free ride, they say. They say you have to work, to try and better the world, to help rebuild and restore the human race. Because if you don't, you're no different than the dead, or all those who haven't returned yet. You might as well get back in the sea."

Her eyes fell to the floor. It was gray and dirty. There was a streak of something slick and black running over the left wheel well. It glittered like morning snow in the dim light of the van.

"All the things I did in the military… I'm not proud of all of them, but I am proud of what I've done since I met you. I know I haven't helped you much, maybe not at all, but you've helped me. You helped me realize you can't get by just hoping for things to get better. You have to make them better. You made me realize that. And in turn, I think that will help me help other people.

"And I know you may not think it, and even though you've been locked up for so long, I think your life was worthwhile, too. You fought to help all of us. You fought against another Impact. You tried to save us. I know you don't like to be called a hero, but… what you did, with your life, it was nobler, better, than anything I have ever done, or could ever hope to do.

"But knowing that, well, at least thinking that, makes me feel like maybe everything people have done for the past twelve, well, the years since the Second Impact, it makes me feel it wasn't a waste. That we've done some good despite all the bad. I don't hate being a human anymore."

I don't hate the people who made me hate humans anymore.

The army stole her childhood with their obsession over the Eva. They took her innocence and purity and crushed them until nothing but their ideal remained. A child soldier, the perfect candidate to infiltrate NERV and regain the dominance the government and UN placed in Ikari Gendo's hands.

She never hated the military. It was the people who ordered it that she detested. Those faceless, brainless bureaucrats, with no sense of reality or combat conditions. They said things and she had to obey, even if they were doing it solely for more power.

But it was her job, just as the army's was to train and mold her. They were following orders. They weren't allowed to question them. Gradually, she stopped wondering if the things they told her and made her do were wrong or immoral, or even mistakes. She had something she could do, was trained to do, and she had to do it no matter what.

And when she was a child, she saw kindred spirits in the Children. They were guided since birth to become pilots and warriors. Except Shinji. He was literally thrown into this world of death without any preparation or mental steeling. And meeting him in person, she could see firsthand what that deficiency caused.

Had she been warped? Was she so indoctrinated that seeing an ordinary boy forced into becoming a soldier caused her nothing more than a pang of regret and pity? But seeing him, being so close to him, it made her subtly rethink what she had been put through. A "normal" childhood was so alien to her actual upbringing that she never really mourned it.

But if she actually had a normal childhood, she'd never know how to deal with killing someone, or following orders she didn't necessarily agree with or want. She'd have a normal mentality, and the concept of fighting for her life would be perplexing and terrifying. It was only because of her training that she had a reason and the ability to cope with this existence. And if she didn't, she suddenly understood it could just as easily be her in Shinji's place.

Was that why he wanted to die so badly? He merely didn't have the mental discipline she was commanded to assume? That was why she couldn't truly relate to him, and his pain. He really was alone in this. She just didn't want him to feel that way.

"So I'm ready to die," she finished. It was the closest equivalence she'd ever be able to draw between them. "I'm ready."

Her speech nearly dissolved all her recent uncertainty about him. She drew an analogous parallel between them, and while it wasn't exact it was clear. Since she wasn't dangerous, neither was he.

The van drove. Sometimes the road was smooth, sometimes it wasn't. There was nothing but estimated movement and the sound of the engine. Once the back wheels jumped up, and the axle made a small clunking noise.

"Third Impact was my fault," Shinji said, very calmly.

"What?" She must have heard him wrong. Though it was just like him to take responsibility for something like that, even that. But she had to have heard him wrong. She had to have.

"It was my fault." He glanced at her, to see how she took it, and saw nothing but bewilderment. "It was set into motion by people who supported NERV and its goals. I'm not sure who or what they were, but they were probably the ones who backed my father when he was gathering people for NERV and the Eva project.

"It was their plan to evolve mankind into a supposedly higher consciousness using the Impact. Everything they did, in a way, everything that happened during the battles against the Angels, it was all because they planned it. It was what they wanted. But the final choice was mine."

"I—"

"I just murdered Kaworu-kun. They all told me, everyone told me I had to kill him. Like he was a virus or some kind of vermin, and that I had to accept that. Kaworu-kun, he—"

"You mean the last Angel," Mana stated flatly.

"You figured it out," he whispered after a moment. He kept his eyes on the floor. "I know you'll probably never think of him as anything other than the last Angel, no one else did, but… he gave me… more than anyone else had for my entire life.

"I met him on the beach that was created after Ayanami self-destructed Unit-00 to save me during the battle with the Sixteenth. He told me he was the Fifth Children. I was surprised, but I remember thinking it made a kind of sense. Like I should have been expecting it. Unit-00 was gone, Asuka was catatonic, and I was the only viable pilot left. Of course NERV would conveniently find some other kid then. But he was new, and affable, and I thought, 'wouldn't it be nice to just forget everything and pretend it was all okay with him? Wouldn't it be nice if he'd let me run away with him?' So I did.

"He stayed close to me, talking, listening, simply being with me. I was more or less spending my time exclusively with him. I couldn't face anyone else. Everyone else knew me, and had done things to me, and I had done things to them, and I didn't want to remember any of it. So I stayed with him because he let me. And I liked it. I liked him. I had only known him for a few days, but he was so friendly and open I couldn't help but let myself feel, to let him get close. Even after Asuka… and Ayanami… I swore I'd never let anything or anyone into my heart again. But Kaworu-kun…"

Shinji paused. His lips were slightly parted, his front teeth locked together. His eyes were very far away. His next words were utterly mystified.

"He told me he loved me. He said it so easily and freely… but it wasn't like it was a hollow nicety he told everyone he met. His words and emotions were solely for me. And I knew it. He loved me, without requiring anything from me. Without asking for me to clean, or cook, or pilot, or murder… without asking a thing of me. He just loved me.

"I don't remember my mother ever telling me she loved me. I know she did, but I guess I was too young to recall. No one else ever told me that. My father left me after she died, and I grew up thinking I didn't deserve it. That no one could love me. But Kaworu-kun did. He told me. He told me, and I had to believe him.

"I couldn't even fathom it. It was puzzling and scary. I never thought anyone said that without looking for something in return. An ego boost, sex, work, money, something. But not—"

Shinji stopped abruptly. The rush of remembered emotion that carried his tongue desiccated and died. His eyes darkened.

"No. That isn't true. He did ask one thing of me. After… after he was revealed as the final Angel, he took Unit-02, possessing it somehow. He had it protect him when I followed to engage. I fought it as we descended to Terminal Dogma. We were still fighting when we hit the bottom, a strange sea of salt pillars and blood.

"He went on ahead, to a chamber. Inside it was… I'm still not completely sure. Kaji-san once told me it was Adam, the First Angel. Misato-san told me it was the Second, Lilith. It was an Angel, that much I know. It was giant and white, crucified in a sea of LCL, wearing a mask with seven eyes.

"That thing was every subsequent Angel's goal. The reason they attacked Tokyo-3. They wanted to reach it to initiate Third Impact. But when Kaworu-kun got there he just… waited. For me. He was… he was smiling when I captured him in my hand. He—"

Shinji shut his eyes to try and not see what came next.

"He asked me to kill him. He said mankind did not deserve to die. That we need the future. That we deserve the future. The only thing he ever asked me to do was end his existence. So I did.

"He smiled. He was always smiling. He was still smiling when I crushed him. He was still smiling when his severed head fell into the LCL. He smiled as I murdered him."

He spared a breath and a movement to look at the woman beside him. There was no sympathy or understanding in her. He killed another Angel, nothing more. Form meant nothing. Souls meant nothing. Love meant nothing. Shinji looked away.

"I wanted to die with him. But I was too much of a coward to follow. All I could do was… I couldn't even cry about it. I just killed the only person who loved me and all I felt was empty. I recognized emotions inside me, but none of them could get from my head to my heart. So…"

He broke off. Mana nearly screamed at him to continue. Don't stop! her mind cried. Not now! Please! Even if she didn't care that the last Angel said it loved him, or that he probably loved it, she didn't want him to end here. Her mission fluttered behind her mouth for a moment, then she swallowed it. She didn't want to hear this for her commanders.

He didn't stop because he was ashamed. He just didn't know if she'd understand. If she'd want to understand. But out of everyone he had met since he killed the world, he now realized this person sitting at his side was the closest he'd ever get to that ideal. Misato was dead. Ayanami was dead. Kaworu was dead. Asuka was not Asuka. His mother was lost forever. They were not coming back. This woman was all he had left.

He kept his eyes on the floor. It was dark and filthy. Like a mirror.

"I visited Asuka in the hospital the next day," he said. "I couldn't turn to anyone else. The only person I could talk to was in a coma, someone who would never respond. It was a safety. I could pour out all my feelings and problems and not have to fear reprisal or humiliation. Just like Kaworu-kun. Asuka was my last resort. Anyone else would talk and say things I didn't want to hear. So I opted for the one person who couldn't.

"I talked to her. I cried. I begged. I just wanted something. Someone, anyone to send me back to when things weren't so horrible. To make her wake up and call me an idiot or a pervert or something to make me feel better. Even if she talked back to me, she wouldn't really be talking to me. She never did. She just talked and never did anything beyond that. She'd judge, but it was so easy to pretend she cared, not about me as a pilot, but a person. I just wanted to hear her voice, to pretend she cared about me again. To let me escape everything I was feeling.

"She was resting with her back to me when I entered. I shook her and she turned over. The top of her gown opened up. The next thing I remember was that I had my penis in my hand. And I masturbated over her while she was in a coma."

Mana gaped at him in shock. Then she slammed her mouth shut. She forced her stomach closed.

"I wandered through NERV for awhile," Shinji went on easily. "My feet got tired after an hour or so, and I found myself under a small stairwell. So I just stayed there. Even when all the alarms started blaring I stayed there. That's when the invasion began. NERV never stood a chance. And the commanders on both sides knew it. The techs and support staff, the people who facilitated that place, they weren't trained for an attack of that nature. Everyone who died all died not knowing why.

"Eventually a few JSSDF soldiers found me. One jammed a gun into the top of my head. And I thought, maybe this was for the best. I didn't have the courage to end my own life; the only way I'd ever die was if someone else did it for me.

"I heard a shot, and then the gun fell away from my skull. I thought I was dead. But of course I couldn't be. Misato-san had found me, and killed the soldiers. She dragged me away and took me through the innards of NERV.

"She told me things, trying to snap me out of my little self-pitying stupor. She told me secrets, about NERV, the Angels, and the Impact. She was the one to tell me the people who ordered the invasion were planning to initiate Third Impact. They were the same people who caused the Second, because they needed to reduce Adam, the Giant of Light, into an embryonic state before the other Angels awoke. Adam… was what the Evas were made from. Clones of Angels. Which was why they were the only things that were able to stand against them."

Somehow, Mana knew she should have expected that. Robots that bleed and eat things couldn't just be robots. The sickest thing to her was her lack of shock. There was just muted acceptance. Monsters to fight monsters. Just like humans.

"Misato-san led me along the path to the cage," Shinji was saying. "The door was right in front of us. Right in front of us. If I had walked on my own, if I didn't force her to drag me around like a piece of luggage…"

He sighed through his nose. His eyes wavered. So he shut them.

"Some JSSDF troops were below us on a balcony. They saw us and fired. Misato-san covered me with her own body and got hit in her side. She still managed to push the both of us through the door to the lift. I saw her in pain, bleeding out, but I just watched. Seeing her blood stain the wall and her hand didn't spur me to fight, it couldn't even incite a trivial concern regarding her injury. I just stood there.

"She yelled at me, she pleaded with me, she tried to compare her life to mine, anything to get me to pilot again. She won't understand, I thought to myself. No one ever could. I got angry. How could she be so arrogant to think she knew what I was going through?

"She told me about herself, everything she had learned over the course of her life. She told me mistakes were a fundamental part of being alive. That by making them, it was possible to learn from them. Not how to avoid making them again, but about who you are as a person, even if you repeat the same errors over and over.

"I told her piloting the Eva was a mistake. All I ever did when I was in it was hurt people. All I did out of it was hurt people too, but the Eva magnified it. But she said I had to do it one more time. Choices are valid. All choices are valid, even if they aren't all right. And she told me mine was wrong. I had to do it once more to find my answers, or ones that would conform to her interpretation, and when I did she told me to come back to her.

"She kissed me, like lust would be a valid motivator, then pushed me into the lift, but she didn't follow. I was confused at first. Then I wiped the blood out of my mouth. She didn't want me to watch her die. She knew she was going to, and all she thought about was saving me, saving everyone else. She died to rescue the human race."

Mana clamped her teeth together. That's why he took responsibility. He did kill her.

"The elevator carried me to Unit-01's cage," Shinji continued. His eyes were still shut. "It was filled with bakelite, and I couldn't get to the Eva. So I sat down and felt sorry for myself, like always. Like every time someone else depended on me and I failed them to wallow in self-pity. I sat, and I listened to Asuka fight the mass produced series Evas over the comm. I can only imagine it. How she fought, how she shined like so many other times while I watched in wonder. I was never jealous of her skill. I was simply awed by it.

"I listened to her triumph again over impossible odds. Of course she would win, I thought. She had mama watching over her."

Mana scrunched her eyes in confusion, and opened her mouth to voice her puzzlement. Both over "mama" and how Asuka recovered from her catatonia. Shinji again beat her to it.

"But she was running on the Eva's battery," he said. "And with the command bridge and NERV under attack, she couldn't coordinate another umbilical cable set up. Her time ran down and all I heard was her screaming as it hit zero. The mass produced series had manufactured Spears of Longinus. They made the injuries the Eva sustained be realized on the pilot's body. And she was at such a high synch ratio, she had to be…"

His brow beetled slightly.

"She lost her eye, she lost her arm, she…"

He clenched his jaw shut. His sharp cheek bones stood out like sword edges.

"Ibuki-san was screaming at me, pleading like Misato-san did, but I just sat there."

He took a breath and hated the act.

"And then my mother, finally, she finally woke up and gave me the means to hurt the people who hurt us. The men who shot Misato-san. The things that hurt Asuka. Anyone. Everyone. It was—"

"Your mother is dead," Mana stated. Her voice was shaking. She hated to interrupt him but this demanded an explanation. "What are you talking about?"

Shinji stopped to open his eyes and look at her critically. Judging her.

"My mother created the Evangelion, did you know that?" He watched her slowly shake her head, no. "She made a god and that god swallowed her alive. She was the first pilot of Unit-01, and it consumed her. I saw it happen. It didn't kill her, exactly. It… I don't know the right term. A part of her stayed alive inside Unit-01. Her soul, her mind… I don't know. But it was as much her piloting as it was me."

_What the fuck!?_ she mentally cried.

"She was inside Unit-01, throughout all the battles, throughout everything. Even now…" He drifted off as he glanced away. "She was inside Unit-01. Just like Asuka's mom was inside Unit-02. That's how she recovered, it had to be. And as I sat there while Asuka was beaten my mother woke up. I'm still not sure why. Maybe it was my anger, or my self-disgust, my fear… I don't know. It had happened before, three times. Each time I was literally on the cusp of death, but she… didn't want me to die. I'm still not sure why she woke up then.

"But it didn't matter. She let me inside her and I entered. It wasn't like the other times I was in her. The LCL, the start-up, the activation, it all happened without outside direction. The bridge had no control or say. My mother wanted me to be with her, and she made it happen.

"And as I sat in Unit-01 I decided, I vowed, to use it as a sword to cut down anything that stood in my way. To make someone, anyone, suffer the way I was suffering.

"I'm sure you've seen it. Some kind of tower of energy rising from the ruins of NERV. When Unit-01 and I finally entered the battle. I wasn't angry. I was… resigned. To fight, one last time. To put my fears to rest, to make someone suffer. It was different from all the other times I had fought in the Evangelion. Before, I had been scared, or incensed, or reluctant. That time I was ready. Finally ready. To die, to kill, to do something. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care how it would end this time. In my victory, or my death, or the death of others by my hand. I didn't care. I just wanted it all to end.

"A part of me always suspected I'd die inside the entry plug. We, the pilots I mean, were nearly killed so many times. Every sortie was a risk. One wrong move and we'd die. After awhile it jaded us a little. Not completely, but enough to make stupid mistakes sometimes. And I guess when I reached the surface of the Geofront that day, I let go of all worries concerning myself. And it was like feeling that way was enough to make me act without any kind of hesitation. I would simply do what I needed to do and not care about the consequences. Even if I had to crush more people in my hands.

"And then I saw Asuka. Unit-02 was torn apart. Asuka was dead. She was dead."

He shut his eyes again. The motion was slow, almost serene. It was beautiful.

"A part of me couldn't believe it. Out of all of us, I always thought Asuka would be the last of us to die. I mean, sure, she was reckless sometimes, but she was so skilled. And seeing her failed and ruined… dead… a part of me died too. So I gave up.

"I gave up without a fight or a struggle, and… those _things_ captured me. They climbed up into the clouds and all I could think about was how unfair it was for me. About my problems. My suffering. My tragic lot in life. I killed Ayanami. I killed Kaworu-kun. I killed Misato-san. And now I killed Asuka. I just sat in my plug and waited to join them."

He opened his eyes. The movement was fast and quick. Like an animal's.

"And then, like a sheet of mist rising from the earth, I saw…"

He paused only an instant.

"I saw Ayanami Rei. As an Angel, giant and white. I… at this point, I don't know. After Misato-san and Asuka died nothing felt real anymore. And this… this cemented the unreality for me.

"After the Sixteenth Angel, when Unit-00 self-destructed, Ritsuko-san, Dr. Akagi, she called me. To show me something, without anyone else knowing. I met with her in the depths of NERV, the place they called Terminal Dogma, but Misato-san was there too, waiting. To see all the secrets buried there.

"I saw a graveyard stretching far beyond my sight, of failed Evangelions. Hundreds of skulls and spines and arms. All just laying in the dark, piled on top of each other, like some kind of reminder or memento. She told me the Evangelions were humans. Humans without souls. That's why they needed the Children to make them move."

Mana clawed her hand over her lips to keep from throwing up. Evas were _human?_ But he said they were clones of an Angel. What the hell did that make humans?

"She took us to a gray room," he was saying with detached finality, "where Ayanami was… created. Where the people who used her for her entire life planned her existence out for her.

"I saw the core of the Dummy Plug system. It was Ayanami. She was the core, the heart of it. In that chamber, it was Ayanami, a hundred times over. Dozens of Ayanami Reis, all suspended from life, floating behind a glass wall, like some grotesque diorama. Then Dr. Akagi killed all of them.

"Ayanami wasn't born, like a normal human being. She was made. From salvaged remains of my mother and material from the Angel crucified in Terminal Dogma below NERV. That was what Ayanami merged with somehow on the day of Third Impact, and became an Angel herself. To present me with the choice to save humanity, or slaughter it. She gave me my heart's desires… anything I wished, anything at all. Companionship, affection, sex, knowledge, eternity, closeness, intimacy, anything.

"And I chose to kill every single human being on the face of the earth. I chose to let Third Impact occur. I let it happen. I made it happen. I wanted it to happen."

Mana gaped at him in utter horror. This was too much. This was too much. It couldn't be true.

"I honestly don't know how it happened," Shinji said, "or what exactly took place during all of it. I was somewhere else. Between life and the other place. I… I'm fairly sure I saw things, or did things, but I can't really remember any of it. It just…" He shook his head briefly. "All I can recall clearly is that it all felt fake. So… I said no. Really, for the first time in my life. I said no, and meant it."

He didn't sound proud or glad. He sounded like he thought he should be proud or glad.

"But before that, while everyone on earth was abandoning their physical bodies at my command," Shinji said, "I saw Ayanami and Kaworu-kun. I talked to them. I tried to understand myself, and the decisions I had made. But everything I gleaned from them… I lost it when I chose to return. It's all like a dream I can't remember. The AT-Field, it traps us. Without it, we learn, we're free. Now, it's a prison. And now… now I don't know if it was the right choice anymore.

"Everyone has an AT-Field. It's the barrier that separates people from each other. It's as much a weapon that combated Angels as it is a weapon against ourselves. It hurts others as it hurts us. Without it, we're nothing.

"You had to have seen recordings of it. Of pools, lakes of LCL all around the world after and during Third Impact. I personally only saw what it was like in Tokyo-3, after I returned, but I can imagine what the rest of the world looked like, too.

"Did you ever wonder why there was so much? That is what humans are made of. It's what we are, freed from our egos. When I made the decision to 'complete' mankind, I forced every man, woman and child to leave their physical existence, and without their individual sense of self, their bodies could not maintain their form. And freed from physical form, we just… exist. We aren't separate anymore, we aren't unique. We just are. A single being without ends or definitions. Falsely real."

Mana had drawn her knees up and crushed them to her chest. Her hands were in her hair.

"Maybe an existence of peace and inhumanity was the better choice. There we don't have to feel anything. We just are. But that place… it isn't real. It's all fake. Just another escape. But I… I really don't know if it's any worse than this.

"I don't know if I was ever truly sure. But… this…" He gestured to the van they were in with a vague wave of his arm. The hand was limp and frail. "What's happening to us now, the military, the past ten years, everything… I can't live like this anymore, but I don't want to go back there, either. I just…"

His face quickly contorted once, like he had just been stabbed lightly.

"But now, while I'm here and alive, I can't keep lying to everyone who talks to me. I can't pretend to be a good little boy any longer. And I can't risk being used again for the Eva program, or another Impact.

"For a long time I thought Instrumentality was better. Even if it was a sea of nothing, even if I wasn't myself anymore, I thought it might be the lesser of two evils. But that was just a delusion, too. It was supposed to be a world without pain, but it isn't. It's a world of nothing. I don't want to go back to that. But I can't live here, either. I know humanity is sick and filthy, but to simply forget it, to forget everything we've all been through… it's wrong. What was the point of everything if we just end up disregarding it entirely?"

Mana's vision swam so she crushed her eyes into her knees. This was too much. LCL, AT-Fields, Impacts, Instrumentality, this… person sitting beside her so close she could feel his body heat…

"I've never told you this… I've never told anyone any of this."

He sounded utterly calm. She wanted to laugh. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn't he have any idea how fucking horrible everything he told her was? That he just ruined her? But he told her. Why the hell did he tell her, now of all times?

"You've had them, haven't you?" his voice floated down to her ears. "The dreams of an endless orange sea? Where you leave your physical self and become something else? They hurt, don't they?"

He waited until she nodded slightly, still facedown in her legs. Her nails dug into her scalp.

"They hurt so much because, even though that sea of orange is a peaceful place without definitions or boundaries, it works against the one thing humans have now that they didn't have inside it during the Impact. Individuality. The human mind cannot contain or fathom the sea. But it instinctively tries to. And it fails, every time. With your mind, your individuality, your ego, those things try to process everything, all the thoughts and memories and images the sea shows you, and it simply can't cope with it all. Your psyche gets broken to a degree, and as a result, it feels painful. It's literally your brain straining apart then getting picked to pieces while you wait and watch."

Mana shut her eyes to breathe. To try and focus on nothing but the air getting sucked down her throat and the pressure crawling through her teeth. Keep it slow, she told herself. Keep it steady. Do not let yourself pass out. Because you will still be here when you wake up. And so will he, and every horrible thing he's told you. You can't escape anymore.

"I have those dreams, too," Shinji said. "Only… I see more than other people. I see the sea, the collapsed human beings yet to return from it, but I see all of them. I see their dreams and thoughts in a show that takes me years to watch. Every time I shut my eyes to sleep at night this is what I dream."

dreams are reality. reality is an escape.

"Understand, it literally takes me years. Every night, again and again, over and over without end. It takes so long, and there are so many things to see they all become nothing but flashes of images and pain, and they all kind of blend together. All I can really distinguish is how long it takes.

"It was partly what let me achieve insanity all those years ago. I finally reached a level of pain that swallowed my fears completely, and I slit my wrists. As I was on the tile floor watching my life slip out of me, I saw Ayanami again. She didn't want me to die. I still don't know why. I… I don't think it was to hurt me. She was never like that. She just… didn't want me to die. This was the choice I made, the choice to run away and abandon her, and she wanted me to have it, no matter what. She just… wanted me to be happy. To try and be happy."

_The blue pattern,_ Mana thought, almost completely outside herself at this point. _Ayanami Rei really was one of those things._

"She cleared my mind," he said. "I could think again. I could act and remember. I could recognize this existence. It's painful and harsh and lonely. But it was what I thought I wanted. This, over the sea. This, the place of everything, over the sea, the place of nothing."

"That… that sea," she said heavily. The words dropped out of her mouth. Her insides emptied as she spoke them. "You've seen it. You know it. Is that really what happens when we die?"

"I'm not sure," he said.

It might have been a lie. His voice was too soft, too unsure.

"It might be," he admitted. "It might be just like the dreams. Those dreams let you see as much as the human mind can handle of that existence without breaking completely. But those dreams… the sea the Impact resulted in is a kind of dream, too. You're there, but you're not really there. You're not really you. The sense of self is lost entirely. Everyone is supposed to 'complement' each other, make mankind complete. To abolish fear and anxiety, pain and suffering. It does, but it also eliminates all other emotion, all other traces of humanity. It erases you. And to see all that, to be broken again and again every night, that is what I have earned.

"It's my punishment," Shinji said. "At least part of it. To pay for everything I did wrong in my life, all the people I disappointed, all the times I failed, everyone I killed, for creating this broken world, for forcing these dreams on every human being alive, for scattering all those who have yet to return. This is my punishment."

Mana jerked her face up to look at him. She wiped her wet forehead with a claw. She was nearly panting.

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered to him. Her voice was a desperate whine. She thought she wanted this all along. For him to speak to her without restraint or his ever-present guard. But she didn't want him to tell her this. She wanted him to tell her he was a victim and an unfairly tortured soul. That he didn't deserve the pain he was forced to exist with, because she didn't deserve hers. Why did he have to murder the only desire she had left in this world?

"You need to understand. I am not the hero Kensuke says I am. And I am not the devil others say I am. But I'm not a person either. Even calling myself a beast is inaccurate. I'm less than all of that. There are no words to completely describe what I am.

"But I am weak, and selfish, and many other things, but above everything else I am liable. I have made truly horrendous choices, and I have done truly horrendous things, but what sets me apart from everyone else is that my decisions and deeds affected the entire human race. That is what Third Impact gave me. The ability to shape the world any way I wished. And I wished to destroy it all. And then like some pathetic little child, I changed my mind. Only this time, I don't get the chance to change my mind again. This time, when I returned, this time I cannot go back for another try.

"I'm no longer sure that was a good decision. I don't know if I was ever really sure. But at the time, I suppose it was what I wanted. I really don't know what would be better for humanity. But to force everyone into one or the other can't be right. We're supposed to have free will.

"But now… now I just…"

He shook his head in a manner befitting an accommodating man condemned to death. Or a reluctant executioner.

"I want to stop. To not exist anymore in any form. I know… I _know_ this is what I deserve for what I did with my life. But I just can't take it anymore."

"Why are you telling me this?" she said again, almost frantically.

"I want to trust you."

He looked at her with something approaching respect, or at least acceptance. It was difficult to tell. He was fading from her vision. The van was slipping away into murky obscurity that crowded her sight and played with the image of him before her, twisting and changing it into something she did not want to see.

"I feel like you've seen enough of who I am to make an intelligent choice about anything I tell you," he said. "Not a right choice, or what I want. Just a good one."

He stared at her, and she stared at him. He was calm and unperturbed. She was terrified. His eyes eventually lost the hint of emotion that flickered in their depths a moment ago, quickly dulling into his usual dark hollow emptiness.

But he looked the same, she thought. He was still tall and lanky. His face was still long and narrow, his hair was messy and disorganized like it had always been. He looked exactly like the first time she ever saw him, and it upset her in a completely irrational way. He just confessed his life's sins, and he looked no different.

Why didn't he look contrite or remorseful? Why didn't he look sad? He was killing her. Why couldn't he show her his humanity for once? Just to step out of his mask one instant and be the person she knew he was supposed to be.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded like he meant it, or wanted to mean it. "I'm forcing all of this on you. I know it isn't fair. But I truly want to trust you. I want to believe that you won't make a choice that hurts you. Someone needs to remember what happened, why it happened, how it happened. We can't just forget everyone who died and suffered. We can't forget the truth, and the pain everyone went through either. Even though it's dangerous, that alone doesn't justify turning our backs on it all. Mankind does not deserve to be forgotten."

Why the hell not? Mana forced a sob down her throat using all the will power and abilities to adapt to trauma instilled in her by her upbringing.

People were awful. They hated and killed each other, and themselves. What was so worth remembering? Why did she have to remember?

That was his reason? To just remember a bunch of crazy dead people she never even met? Why couldn't he? God, someone, something, anything, just make him keep it all to himself. Make him take it all back and return to playing the martyr, the person she could pretend to know how to deal with.

So he wanted to die. What made him so special? He said he deserved this, and now he wanted to run away from it? Why did she ever believe he had grown out of being a child?

He'd already tried to escape once, and failed. Doomed to life, even after slashing his wrists. The blood remained inside him. Was he even human anymore? Was he ever?

"Misato told me one more thing," Shinji whispered. It wasn't to give importance to his words, or make her feel privileged to receive what he was about to impart. It was a vain attempt to let her avoid hearing it, even though his own voice was filled with desperate surrender. "There is one last Angel. Mankind was created in a god's image. And the god that made mankind was Lilith. Human beings were born from the Second Angel. Human beings are the Eighteenth Angel."

"Stop it," Mana whimpered. She covered her face and started rocking back and forth. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it, _please._"

I'm killing her. What's one more?

"I don't want you thinking you knew me or what happened, or thinking I helped anyone so you can help others. Someone… once told me there are as many truths as there are people, but only one truth that is yours. That's right, but my truth affects everyone else's.

"I cannot be out in the open like this. I can't live safely outside of a cage. Someone will just force me to make another bad decision someday. What I did in Tokyo-2 is proof enough. The only thing I've ever been able to do is hurt people. Since I was a child, the only way I've been able to sustain my life is by taking everyone else's."

like right now.

"But you're not like me. You're a good person. You should live. Even if this life hurts, as… as long as you're alive you have a chance at happiness. That's what you should have, even just the chance. I don't merit that, but you do. And if a good person knows all of this, they won't use it to hurt others like I did.

"Even when I'm dead and buried, or used to do terrible things and driven mad again, someone has to remember. That's why I told you."

Misato made him remember, and she made him live. That was the right thing for her to do, right? She believed that, so he had to as well. Even if she died for it, she did the right thing. And what he was doing now, he needed to believe it was right, too. The first thing he had ever done that was right.

He knew she shouldn't die. He was the only one to claim that fate. And while he had lived with this knowledge poorly, he had still lived. But she was a stronger person than he was. She was. She wouldn't be shattered by this the same way he had been.

Guilt was nothing new. He had lived with it for too many lifetimes. Even so

I'm sorry Ayanami, Kaworu, Asuka, father, mother. I'm sorry, Misato, everyone, Mana…

"I'm sorry." For hurting you, for killing you, for being what I am. "I'm sorry."

_I can't live, not after all of that._

"Sorry," Mana spat out. "That's all you can say? You're sorry? If you're looking for forgiveness—" She jammed her eyes shut to make him disappear. "God. I… I can't have this. I can't… _live_ with this. I don't want to live with—"

For the first time in her life it dawned on her that she really didn't want to die. Even with this knowledge that crushed and scattered the entirety of her heart, she wasn't ready. Not now that she knew what awaited her. Before, even if it had been unknowable and incomprehensible, existence after death was merely unknown. Scary sometimes, but she knew when she was old and gray she would accept it because it was inevitable and nothing but the final part of life. But now, faced with this strange, weird, horrible manmade sea of nothing filled her with complete terror. If that was all that awaited everyone, everything people said and did was pointless. If that was what waited, then

"Then…" Mana gave a short demented scoff, a sound to sum up her confusion and panic and faltering grasp on reality. "Then what's the point? Of life, of existence? After everything you told me, what is the point?"

He turned his head away further from her, like he was ashamed for what he was about to say, about to further destroy for her. She couldn't see his face anymore.

"There is no point," Shinji said. His voice was quicker now, certain and definite. "There is no meaning to life. There is no God watching out for us. Nothing matters. The only thing that has any kind of worth is how desperately people cling to living, and the memory of those that came before. Forgetting people is the same as killing them. All we can do is remember the dead, and try to make their sacrifices less meaningless. Because the most likely thing waiting for us after death is a blank endless sea of nonentities I created out of my stupidity and perversion and immaturity and utter idiocy. That is all." He shut his eyes. "This is all we get. There is no greater meaning. There is no point."

The van drove on.

* * *

The van stopped.

It wasn't like the other times they stopped. The wheels screeched and shrieked, and undoubtedly shed most of their skin over the jagged road. They heard other cars stop the same way, and soon people were shouting, loud words that sounded like weapon fire. Feet pounded the asphalt. The two in the van did not react at all.

Shinji and Mana had not spoken for nearly ten minutes. It still wasn't enough time to assimilate everything he related to her. For the last time it shattered her perception of him. Not just his actions, but the fact he gave so much so freely. Why had he done it?

He told her he trusted her. But her gut didn't believe that. Did he merely need someone to confess to? Was she just the most readily available ear he had? His new last resort? His new Asuka? He told her before he had nothing but knowledge, and that it made him incredibly dangerous. Did he somehow think she would be different? Or didn't he care anymore? Like he said before, to make someone suffer as much as he was?

She didn't want to believe that, to believe him. She really didn't want to believe him.

He hinted at parts of this in their earlier interviews, but being explicitly told was an impossible weight. He had burdened her. Why the hell couldn't he keep it to himself? Why did he have to drag her down into this too? Let him remember by himself. She didn't want this. Why did he have to hurt her like this?

The van door tore open. There was a man there, stocky and broad, with a stubbly face and tiny eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, order something, and suddenly dove to the side as half of his face exploded in a clap of red after a bullet buried itself inside him above his temple. He landed on the street with a hollow plop.

Mana grabbed Shinji's hand. She did not think about blue patterns or AT-Fields or Evangelions or human Angels or his choice to kill her world and her mind and what was left of her soul. She tried hard, to force all of that down below her emotions and desires like she was taught, and only thought of him. The person she wanted to meet, the person she wanted him to be.

He was a person, she told herself. He was still a person.

"Shinji-san," she said, stealing every authoritative inflection she had been subjected to in her life to command him to obey her demands. "Follow me." _Obey me._

He obeyed.

They left the van. There were people to their right and left, shooting and shouting at each other, pointing weapons and hate and taking lives, just like everyone else. The people who called themselves rescuers and heroes and loved Ikari Shinji fought with the zeal worship gave humans, but they were opposing trained professionals without attachment and a death-hardened sense of life within the grip of combat. They would win eventually, because they had to. They did not want to do this, they merely had to.

Mana pulled Shinji behind her like a toddler. There were cultists shielding them from the military forces, allowing them a nearly unobstructed path out of the kill zone. They were all caught within the lust for the divine, and could not notice them.

The dirty men and women wielded guns like children with sticks on a playground, the place that always trumped taught morality for impulsive emotion. They were using the vans and cars they had been traveling in as cover, but ardor born of adoration can only postpone death for so long in the face of superior power. They would not win. Mana had to get Shinji out of this place, because he could not die here. He could not die because—

She saw a slim young woman on the ground, sprawled like a model trying to make her death look stylish. Her short black hair was mixed with red.

Mana didn't see Aida. Either he was dead, had run away, or was captured. There was too much chaos to see everything clearly. Despite her steady military eye, she could not catalogue the entire scene. She didn't want to. Just this morning she had admitted to herself that she could see the logic and emotion in trying to free Shinji. And now that he was out of the protective grasp of the military he was

He was still… what was he now? To her? He had just crushed her life's beliefs and work. But he did it using nothing but truth. Or, the truth as he perceived it. She was commanded, a lifetime ago, that truth was subjective. What was fact for one person may be a lie to another. It became clear enough after all the survivors she listened to.

But just like he said, his truth affected everyone else. He affected everyone else. His choices. Or rather, his choice. To end the world.

He was a person. He was still a person. People are fallible. They make mistakes, just like he said. Mistakes are a fundamental part of being human. It was just the way things were. No matter how horrible those mistakes were. He made mistakes and learned about himself from them. Because he was a human.

This was all a weak excuse. A way to try and deny everything he told her. Any way.

She didn't want to hate him. Even for what he'd done to her, and the world, and himself. She just wanted to hold onto him, the Ikari Shinji who fought and bled and smiled and said he was sorry and meant it. Not the thing that hurt her. That thing that was so deserving of its wish to die.

But he had to live. Despite everything else, even his own feelings. Because if he was alive, he could take it all back. He could say it was a lie or a bad joke and she could like him again. She wouldn't have to hate him.

She was still holding his hand. It was warm and soft. Not the hand of someone who killed three billion people. It was a human hand, full of bone and muscle and blood and soul. It was human.

They ran. The streets were deserted, despite the gun fight crackling against the buildings at their backs. The army must have evacuated everyone. They knew the cult, Shinji, was coming this way.

She looked back. Agents had pushed past the faltering cultists, and were pursuing her. They were ordering her to stop. Mana kept running.

She shook her head clear of everything except the functions needed to run. She no longer thought about anything at all. She acted.

She could not stop to think if this was treason or desertion, or just a simple rebellion. This action began as soon as she heard he was a prisoner, as soon as she saw his face in the doorway of that cage, as soon as she listened to his voice and made the words that crawled out conform to what she wanted him to be for her. Because he was human, he was like her, he was what she always wanted him to be. He had to be. If he wasn't, it would be the same as if he was dead. And it would be like she was dead too.

The gunshot was surprisingly loud. It seemed to echo over the entire street and up into the sky. It filled everything for a long moment, then faded to a buzzing memory in her ears. Mana ducked by instinct. After a breath kneeling on the ground and realizing she wasn't hit, she continued running. She stopped when she did not feel Shinji's hand in her own any longer, when his feet were not sounding behind her. She turned around.

He was standing on the side of the road, his brow scrunched up in confusion. He took a step, and staggered, nearly falling down. Mana scanned his body, and quickly found a dark stain spreading over his chest. The earth tilted crazily under her feet.

Shinji blinked slow and hard, then his legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees. He still appeared confused. He hesitantly touched his chest, and the hand came away wet.

He looked up. He couldn't see Mana anymore. He couldn't see the street, or the buildings, or the sky. His body was expanding, the nerve endings growing and drawing away from one another until he could feel the entire world. But his vision narrowed, like a tunnel, and all he could see through a thin veiled gauze of sparkling white red was

"Ayanami," he whispered.

She stood far away from him, but she was all he could see. She wasn't smiling, that smile she gave only him. And she wasn't frowning.

But her eyes. They were his mother's eyes. Filled with longing, and sympathy, and regret, and lamentation over his choices and decisions. But beyond that, behind that, there was a thing he had no pleasurable experience with in this world. She looked at him, and he was loved.

He finally found it. He finally had it in the real world. And now

He was going to die because

This time it was not his hand. It was not his choice. This time she could not save him. This time

you will be hurt again.

that's okay.

"I don't… just don't send me back—"

Thank you.

He fell. His face impacted the pavement with an empty crack. He did not move.

"Shinji…"

Sound slipped past Mana's lips in an awful breath of concluded hopes.

She ran back to him. She ignored the agents chasing them, she ignored the cultists in the final throes of disobedience, all still trying to shout and kill. The rest of the world dissolved until all she could see was Shinji, lying motionless on the ground.

She reached him. She nearly tripped over him. She kneeled next to him and quickly turned him over. His entire chest was wet. His face was distorted by a crushed nose and small scrapes. His eyes were open. His mouth was open.

"Please, please, please."

She stabbed her index and middle fingers into his soft throat. She jammed them up under his sharp jaw, and tried to stop them from shaking.

"Please please please."

Agents were all but circling her now. They were running. Mana could not find his pulse.

"Please please please please _please._"

She pressed her tiny hands on his chest. It was hard, all bone, no meat at all. It was still warm. Blood seeped up between her fingers. Some had reached the asphalt beside her. She kept pushing down, to force it back inside. There was too much out of him. Too much to—

He's human, she told herself. He was bleeding to death on a street right under her. He was still human.

He's still a human! He's still a human!!

_I don't want to die!!_

"_Please please please please please please please please!"_

He was ripped away from her. She felt hands on her arms, lifting her up, tearing her from the man spilling red at her feet. She struggled, she tried to resist, but there were a lot of hands, and they were stronger than she was. They pulled harder.

The only thing they let her do was stare at him. The agents towed her away, back to the scene of the dead battle, taking her from him.

Eventually she couldn't see him at all. Guards surrounded him, some bent to do something to him, some just standing. But they didn't let her see him. He was gone.

She closed her eyes. There was darkness. It wouldn't matter anymore. She closed everything. There was silence.

The world closed and there was nothing.

* * *

The cell door opened. From a brief moment the hall beyond was visible, sterile and white, and two armed guards posted on either side of the door. A man entered, middle-aged, medium height and build, slightly balding, thick glasses. He was clad in a simple button-up and slacks, and held a briefcase and a series of folders in either hand. He smiled as the door shut and locked behind him.

He made his way to the table in the center of the square room. It was metal, but the top was fashioned into a faux wood panel, to give the illusion of comfort and consolation. The rest of the room was clean and bare, only a small toilet and sink, a narrow bed, and a fuzzy fluorescent embedded in the ceiling.

"Hello," the man said. "I'm Dr. Hirasawa. I'm here to talk to you today, alright?" He pulled a chair out from the table and sat. He pushed himself in, placed the briefcase on the floor, and the folders he was carrying before him. "How are you feeling today?"

"Don't ask me that unless you want a real answer," Mana said, shackled to the table. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes sunken and dark. Her lips were split, and freely hung in a perpetual downward arch. It had only been two days since the day on the street by her count, but it felt like years. They hadn't even let her take a shower yet. Her hands still reeked of blood.

"Yes, I'd like a real answer," the man said earnestly. Too earnestly. He was trained to put others at ease to gather information, just like she was. She knew the tricks of the trade. She was a part of it for years.

"How the hell do you think I feel? I've been locked up by the military I served for my entire life because I tried to give a broken man a shred of relief and hope before he died. He was killed by the military I served for my entire life, which also locked him up for nearly a decade like some criminal. He was berated and tortured everyday for no real reason except to cushion the desires and fears of those in power who wanted more power. Yeah, I was part of the system that hounded him, but I had the monumental gall to believe I was really trying to help him. I wasn't. I was helping myself smooth over a past full of regret and shame and to try and put it all behind me. I worked to facilitate my own hang-ups and imagined accountabilities like some little child begging for daddy's forgiveness. All I ever did was relieve myself. My problems. My worries. My anxieties. My suffering. That's all I ever cared about. I was a terrible doctor. Everyone single person I ever interviewed I kept at arm's length. I never felt any genuine empathy or compassion. All I had was an artificial shell that smiled and nodded and put up the front that I had worked so long to perfect. All my friends, my colleagues, my family, the people I'm supposed to care about, all of it's a lie. I didn't care. I put on a happy face, a smile to fool them into thinking I give a shit about them and their problems but I never did. If I never let myself feel anything but superficial bonds, I'll never get hurt. It's selfish, and cowardly, but I don't care. I never let myself feel anything at all. It's the safest way to live in this world. Because it can all get torn away in a heartbeat, again. And if I had succeeded in stealing Shinji-san's memory and soul it very well could end, forever this time. But he's dead now. He's dead and all his thoughts and emotions and experiences are gone forever, and I'm in a prison cell being interviewed by a man who's only after anything he might have told me to take back to his masters for a little praise, while they can try and implement that knowledge to build more Evas, or resurrect the technology of NERV, or cause another Impact, or dominate the earth, or something else that will inevitably cost more lives, and the only reason will be because those in power want nothing but more power.

"So please, don't ask me how I'm feeling."

Dr. Hirasawa took her entire dialogue in stride. He made a brief note, then fixed her with a polite face, waiting for her to continue if she wished. He kept waiting. Finally Mana bit.

"Why are you really here?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

"The military is concerned about what happened to you over the course of your investigation with Ikari, and your kidnapping with him, as well as your actions when he was killed. Dependability has become a very serious issue, I'm afraid."

"So they don't trust me anymore."

"They're just troubled with your recent behavior. That, and Mr. Aida's testimony has also raised questions regarding your conduct and motivations."

"Aida's alive? He talked to you?" she asked, in restrained disbelief. Both that he wasn't killed in the battle, and had actually spoken to anyone. There was no way, not after everything he told her, and how much he hated the military. She waited for a response. Hirasawa just stared at her.

"I'm here," he said after a pause, "to try and answer some of the military's questions. Your cooperation will be both greatly appreciated, and a first step at restoring your credibility." He stopped, to let her say more, and she did not. "Shall we begin?"

Mana's eyes fell on her shackled hands.

"Fire away," she muttered.

He briefly checked over something in the file before him.

"You were part of the aborted Trident Project, correct?" He didn't receive a response, and decided he didn't need one. "You were trained to be its pilot. And to approach Ikari, right?" Again, no answer. "How did you feel when you first heard you would be interviewing him?" Silence. "I can wait all day, if you wish."

"I was excited," Mana said, looking away from him. "I felt like a teenager again. I'd always wanted to meet him and the other pilots, ever since I heard about them. I was supposed to become their friend. To do anything it took to achieve that objective." She snorted something out that almost sounded like a laugh. "They told me I should fuck Shinji if it helped the mission. Whatever it took."

you like him, don't you?

"Did you want to?" he asked.

i can tell

"I was fourteen," she said, trying to keep the bubbling fury from exploding out of her mouth. "What kind of question is that?"

"An honest one."

He patiently waited, for a response, or an attack. He sat, and his face was placid. Like the inquiry had been inevitable. Mana glanced off towards the door, and kept a tight leash around her emotions.

"My wants never figured into any scenario my commanders gave me."

"They're not unimportant."

"No, they just don't matter," she stated through her teeth.

He waited for her to continue, or look back at him, and she did not. He straightened the folders in front of him.

"What happened back there?" Mana asked after a sustained moment. "How did you find us?" She was proud she kept her voice from wavering. "Why was he shot?"

Hirasawa hesitated, debating something with himself. At length, he decided to tell her. She watched him die, she knew him better than probably anyone alive. And it wouldn't hurt.

"I was briefed," he said, "and the commanders credited an anonymous informant to the likely path Ikari was traveling on. The army had placed a few agents in several cult sects years ago, but this wasn't one of ours. As to exactly who it was, they did not see it as vital to my own investigation to let me know.

"Regarding the shooting, it was never the objective or the intent the military held. As I understand it, some of the cultists began to struggle and fight back against the soldiers who captured them. They were forced to defend themselves, and a stray shot must have hit Ikari. It's hardly an excuse, but it's all I can offer you."

"That is a pretty shitty excuse."

"It's all I can offer you."

"Bet they're pissed," she said, all but mocking the man across from her. "Their fount of information just dried up. Pity. Guess you're all going to have to do your homework now, instead of beating the answers out of the smart student, huh?"

Hirasawa watched her, as her face gradually collapsed from derision to emptiness. He allowed her little jab to pass, and moved on.

"You were briefed on Ikari in some depth when you were a teenager, correct?"

"I was briefed on all of the pilots."

"Well, yes, I imagine. But Ikari was your main objective, correct?"

"Yeah," Mana answered absently.

"What was your impression of him?"

She quickly decided questioning the relevance of this line of interrogation was a waste of both their time. Not that time was something she was in short supply of anymore. She just wanted this man to leave so she could get back to feeling sorry for herself.

"I only had pictures and reports of his behavior," she said. "If he had been anyone else, if he hadn't been a pilot, I never would have given him a second glance. He wasn't the cutest, or the smartest, or the toughest, or the coolest guy I'd ever run into, and the whole shy and timid thing didn't do it for me. But he was a pilot. He was a pilot who brutalized his opponents. It was something I hadn't seen in the career soldiers that had been around me my entire life. He was so quick to feel things, he didn't try to restrain himself at all. He wasn't trained to. Even if he put on a bashful face, he had something else inside him. Something that tore apart Angels and did whatever else he felt like. Something that let him feel anything he felt freely. That was the boy I wanted to meet."

The boy that made me finger myself at night, she thought in utter disgust.

"And now?" Hirasawa asked. "How did you react to actually encountering him in person?"

"It's easier to see the person that crushed the things that threatened him when he was backed into a corner as opposed to the little boy who wanted friends. With everything that happened to him, I guess it was inevitable that he lost the whole shy kid routine. He still has a lot of unresolved, excuse me, irresolvable anger issues. I don't blame him. He's cold and distant, and uses his intellect and the intimidation that goes with being who he is to keep people away from him. Everyone who he's ever been close to has died, betrayed him, or lost their mind. He's just looking for the easiest way to keep himself safe, from himself and others. He's—"

"You're speaking like he's still alive," Dr. Hirasawa said gently.

"… yeah, I guess I am." Mana hadn't even realized that. Her jaw clenched. "He's really dead." She had said it, thought it, but didn't want to believe it. Now she had to. Her eyes met the man's. They confirmed it.

"So, you felt an emotional attachment to him," he stated, more than asked. "Even though it's something your commanders all but forbade."

"I was never very good at this job, and the face I usually wore, the whole 'I'm here and comforting, but we both know I don't really give a shit' thing wouldn't work on him. I realized that pretty quickly. So, I let myself start to feel. Experience him, who he i— was. It was probably the stupidest thing I could have done, but I didn't care. At first, I told myself it was just to gain his trust, get him to talk. But… I mean, I've been alone for most of my life. The military basically raised me, and discouraged serious relationships, both because of what I was trained for, and to keep me under control. I could put up a pretty convincing flirty mask, but it was entirely fake.

"But Shinji-san… I guess I started drawing parallels between his life and mine. Like we were kindred spirits or something idiotic like that. I wanted to believe I found someone else in this shitty world who was like me, who could understand what I felt. He'd been through so much, more than me, and I thought, I don't know, maybe he'd sympathize with me since we've both had crappy lives. I just… I wanted someone to relate to who didn't have the kind of discipline that was forced on me. I… I wanted someone to feel sorry for me, who didn't know me.

"And… I liked him. He was… a part of me was actually excited to be kidnapped with him. That maybe Aida and the other cultists would let us stay with each other, and talk, but this time it would be free of the underlining fact of all our previous time together, of me stealing information from him. Like we could be real people around each other. And just… just talk."

"Was that why you tried to run away?"

"I know it was completely against orders and against common sense, but… I couldn't help it. I wasn't thinking. And I was getting sick of the military's blind obedience to the idiots who were using Shinji-san. I started feeling sorry for him, not just for what he went through when he was younger, but because… I just… I wasn't thinking. I don't know why I did it. I should have realized we wouldn't get anywhere. I just…"

Her mouth worked for several moments, unable to form anything.

"I just wanted to help him," Mana finally said.

"Did you love him?"

"I didn't even know him."

"I'm not so sure about that," Hirasawa said in a skeptical tone of voice. "You were interviewing him for nearly three months. And the contact the two of you had was probably very intimate. Very serious. You were questioning him about the Evangelion program and NERV, correct?"

"Yes. But he always kept himself at a distance." Mana lied, keeping his final confession to herself without any difficulty. She was trained as a spy, after all. "He realized if he told people they'd just employ what he knew again. The Evangelion was more than just a weapon to combat the Angels."

"Really?"

"Don't play dumb," she grumbled. "You wouldn't be here interrogating me if you didn't know about Project E and NERV. Just like I was briefed before I started my investigation."

"I'm sure you know more than I do."

"I only know what I've been told."

"Hmm." Dr. Hirasawa rifled through his folders again, then pushed them to the side of the table. He glanced down at Mana's cuffed wrists, then sighed through his nose. "You've been a part of the military for most of your life. And your involvement with the Trident Project is well documented. What I'm getting at is this: you know the system. You know the military's goals, what they're trying to do. They kept Ikari Shinji for so long not out of any kind of revenge or retribution, but to keep him and the information he had under control. The Evangelions gave NERV and its commanders incredible power and influence. Even the people who directed the attack on Tokyo-3 and deployed the mass produced series had authority over the JSSDF. The military was keeping him and the knowledge he held safe from malevolent groups looking to misuse what he knew.

"And you're right. I was briefed. I've seen recordings of the battles, I've seen discs taken the day of Third Impact. But I'm in the dark about what really happened. I can guess, but its baseless posturing. And the knowledge behind it, the reason it happened and the cause, I don't know that either. No one does. But we're trying to find all that out to prevent anything like it from happening again. No one wants to live through another Impact, or the hell that follows one. I've lived through two, Dr. Kirishima, and I can say without any doubt we do not want another. It's why I joined the JSSDF. To try and prevent that tragedy from occurring again."

He leaned forward across the table, his eyes shining with sincerity behind his glasses.

"Do you honestly believe the military or its leaders would employ anything they learned from Ikari maliciously or with intent to harm any human being?"

"… I don't know anymore," Mana whispered at her hands.

Hirasawa sat back.

"I do know," he said. "Yes, the Evangelion units were powerful. Beyond anything the military has, or will probably ever have. But using power without conscience makes us no different than some beast out in the wild. You cannot tell me the military has no conscience."

"I don't know anymore," she said again. Her voice was tight.

"I have trouble believing you can just forget about everything you've lived through in the military. Yes, their methods may be dubious, or directed by others, but their heart is never bent on evil. They're doing their job. And as sad as it may sound, it's a necessary job. But even if the politicians and governing bodies that command them are corrupt, the people who are chained to their bidding aren't.

"And even if those in power within this country, or the UN do find out everything there is to know about the Evangelion program, I can assure you without any uncertainty that no one will ever, ever let those things be used for evil again. I swear. If worst came to worst, the rest of the world wouldn't let them.

"Is that the reason Ikari never talked? Because he was afraid of what people would do with knowledge of the Evangelion program? Or did he truly not know?"

"I don't know."

She was trying hard… she was trying so hard not to cry. She hadn't cried when Shinji was shot, or when her efforts to save him failed. She hadn't cried when she knew he was dead. And she didn't want to cry now, not for some lowly son of a bitch interrogator who was just fucking saying words to her.

But her sight was already blurry. Just like after her second interview with Shinji. And that time, like this time, was for nothing but herself. She wanted to cry for someone else for once. If she did it would be okay for her to do it. But it never was. It was always for herself.

She hated being this weak. Weak people were useless in this world. And she was not weak. She didn't think she was weak. She would not start now. She kept her lips and teeth crushed against each other. Not now. Not now.

"Dr. Kirishima, if you know something it will not do you any good to keep it hidden. Ikari must have, and you know firsthand nothing good came of it. Don't make this any harder for yourself than it already is."

She did not respond. He decided on another approach.

"Do you think this is what he would have wanted, for you to keep yourself cut off like this? To keep everything silent? You said you started to feel sorry for him. It's clear you cared about him. And judging on the reports from past doctors who interviewed him, it's clear he must have cared about you, too. I cannot imagine this, you keeping yourself locked up, was what he wanted for you.

"I thought you knew him enough to see that."

"I never knew him," Mana bit out.

That hiccup of speech was all the tears needed. It started as a single droplet of water slipping down her face and falling into her lap. Then another, then two more, then more and more until her eyes were nothing but liquid streaming over her cheeks. And she cried.

She cried like when her mother died, like when her father died, like when the rest of the world died. But it wasn't for their deaths, it was for her own loss when they left her. For so long she had kept no real ties to other people simply because when they ended they would be too sad. All her friends, Musashi, Asari, all the people in her office, in the military, in the city, the people she interviewed, everyone. They would all die or leave or disappear and Mana would be alone again before she knew it and she would cry for herself again before she knew it.

So she isolated herself. It was lonely, but it was safe. Her heart was gradually forgotten, nothing but a wispy memory of another self, and she lived in a harmless static state of existence. But Shinji…

She tried not to be concerned. She tried not to care beyond the requirements of the mission. But her past, her aborted intimacy with him, and the actual contact, along with a lifetime of loneliness and purposeful seclusion… she liked him. Despite his depression and darkness. Despite the situation and her orders. She liked him, because she thought she could see past his shadows. He was like her. She wanted to believe he was like her. She needed to. And she was wrong.

He wasn't like her. He wasn't like anyone else on earth. He carried impossible guilt and shame, and had no hope for ever rising above them. He suffered unthinkable torture every day and every night. It was no small miracle he hadn't been driven insane again.

But beyond all that, she honestly didn't know if he was a good person anymore. Before their last interview she reread all the reports and files on him from 2015 that she had pored over so many times again and again, about how shy and sweet and bashful and caring and gentle and cute he was… but she also knew about the animal that tore apart Angels and left friends to die and gave into selfish self-pity.

And now, the thing that cast the world into Third Impact.

A beast, he once called himself.

Using power without conscience makes us no different than some beast out in the wild.

That was what Shinji had. He had power unto a God, and he had no conscience. He lost it somewhere along the way. Maybe hurting all those people, or killing the final Angel, or taking responsibility for his friends' deaths… he didn't have any sense of right and wrong and he used the power given to him to make everyone else suffer as much as he did. He forced the entire world into the Impact.

Who was he? What was he? All the perceptions and beliefs she had crafted about him were false. None of them were true. They were nothing but self-absorbed fantasies to make him into her ideal, her vision of Ikari Shinji she had carried inside her for over a decade. It was all a reflection of her wants, her dreams, her desires and needs for something in this world that wasn't dirty and twisted and ruined. Something she could believe in, to make her forget her own selfishness and weakness and failings. Anything.

Anything. And now there was nothing. He was dead and she was in prison and nothing would ever change either of those realities. Even if she relented and divulged everything he told her, the higher-ups would never let her see daylight again. She was a resource now, not a person. Just another source of information, a book to be forced open and stole from. She was trapped. Imprisoned. Would they keep her here? In this tiny room? Would they send new doctors every few weeks when the old ones failed?

Would they put her in a safe house outside the city caged in barbwire and surrounded by guards and wait until she cut open her wrists?

Her tears collected on the table by her chained hands. Dr. Hirasawa did not try to stop her, or ease her. He simply observed passively from his chair. Mana still cried.

She didn't know Shinji. She didn't know anyone. No one knew her. No one knew anyone. It was nothing but self-delusion and pathetic longing. A desperate desire to not feel so utterly alone.

But that's all people were. Alone. There were… walls around a heart, that no language, no actions, no thing could ever breach. Even what Shinji told her in the van, it sounded like he was reciting lines from a play. Emotion was there, but it was directed. Like that was how he felt he should feel with the words he spoke. There was still that unseen, unbreakable barrier between them. The same barrier that existed between all people.

She would never know who he truly was.

Because he was finally dead now, the one wish he had left, and she, no one, no one ever knew who he was. No one ever knew him.

* * *

I Knew Him When

End

Author notes: it's like, physically impossible for me to write a happy ending. Or a good one. Ha ha ha. Or a short one. Christ. This broke 49 pages and 22,000 words. Entirely too long. My pretension knows no limits.

Hmm. The opening makes Asuka a little more manic than she was in chapter 4. She kinda fades in and out, I guess. Honestly, my perception of her character in this evolved (or devolved, take your pick) since chapter 4. At first she was just looking for acceptance. She still kinda is, but with a whole new fucked up undercurrent. Well, I've always enjoyed the plot bunny of people being scared of Shinji. Expect to see it again sometime.

So, so many unresolved issues. Oh well. I did promise I'd clear them all up, but my promises are worthless. Remember that. I also said I'd do an epilogue which _would_ explain most of the loose ends in a very boring, straightforward way: the oh so convenient "anonymous informant," the deal with the dreams, who hired Kensuke, etc, etc. I've started to debate the wisdom of it. I kinda like this end.

MidnightCereal gave me some good advice: "When the story's over… it's over."

So take _that_, resolution and closure. This was never a happy story to begin with, and this ending was just the plot coming full circle. Mana lost her idealism and hope, just like Shinji. She's a prisoner being drilled for information that only she knows, just like Shinji. Blah blah blah. This may not have an apocalyptic battle or the destruction of humanity, but it's still the end of a world. Lame.

And yeah, Mana was more or less nothing but a receptacle in this chapter, hell, in this whole story, but guess what? I don't give a fuck. Besides, what fun would it be if she was all cool and okay with everything Shinji told her? Melodrama, away! And I know his reasoning was convoluted, but come on. Shinji is a selfish person. Utterly destroying the hero image. Eat it, fandom. Eat it all.

Aaaaaand, I'm pretty sure everyone predicted Shinji dying. You had to. If you were shocked, I wasn't doing my job. Partly to finally shut Shinji up after all his bitching and self-deprecation from the past five chapters, partly to drive home the whole "Mana becoming Shinji" crap theme by trying to parallel EoE, I just wanted to end on a sour note. Just trying to communicate the inevitability of the end. And I tried to make his death as lame as possible. Purposefully disappointing. Nobody in this was particularly heroic or noble, so a flashy death would be weird. Besides, a mech pilot getting killed by a stray bullet? Hilarious. I mean, fuck, what did you expect? Him diving in front of Mana to save her life? Pfft. Please. I try to keep from being _that_ clichéd.

Meh. Want the epilogue? Someday.

Thanks for reading.

OMAKE digest of chapter 10

Asuka's fucking crazy. Kensuke's fucking crazy. Mana's deluded. Shinji's the worst kind of suicidal: the kind where you can't actually kill yourself. Also, he's the worst kind of storyteller: the kind who is consumed with himself and can't let go of the past and is needlessly lengthy. I can't write action. Rei's creepy. Still. Bang, Shinji's dead. Mana's a prison bitch. I laugh. The end.

Epilogue preview: Shinji is resurrected by magic! Asuka earns a position teaching fifth grade boys! Kensuke dies from autoerotic asphyxiation! Kensuke is resurrected by magic! Mana is pardoned and marries Shinji and they both forget their lives of horrific abuse and pain and have twins and live happily ever after until (dun dun dun) demons from outer space attack earth (oh no!) and Shinji has to pilot the newly built Eva Unit-#1SuperAssKicker and save the world!! Plus, a disturbing and pointless sex scene spawned from my attempts to be artistically cathartic. Par for the course. Then, the end. For real. I want to move on to a new fic that I'll inevitably get sick of after five chapters, like all the rest. See you then.


End file.
